


Only Shot at Honor

by gallifreycallsnow



Category: Naruto
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Family, Friendship, Gen, Madara's Good Life Choices, No Romance, Self-Indulgent, When i began writing this i only planned for three chapters. Now it's looking like its gonna be six., for once, mentions of depression, so no romance, the original characters are an old woman and a six year old girl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-12 06:06:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 33,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7923448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gallifreycallsnow/pseuds/gallifreycallsnow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Madara has lived in seclusion for five years after his defeat at Hashirama's hands, hidden away on a different continent where there are no shinobi. An old woman brings him food every week, and in return for her kindness, he helps her and her young ward find safety after the destruction of their village. </p><p>In doing so, Madara finds a purpose, discovers what it's like to have family again, makes some good life choices, and uncovers one or two conspiracies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Post-Obituary

**Author's Note:**

> Well. It's exam season and this is the longest story I've ever written. I hope you like it as much as I do. Just a brief warning - there are probably some things in here that don't line up with canon - other than the obvious - and that's because I haven't actually watched the anime or read the manga in five years, almost. I just keep up with the story because these characters are my babies and I love them so much.
> 
> Enjoy!

Darkness creeped along the edges of Madara’s vision, and he groaned. The clone he’d left behind had finally dispelled, after Tobirama had stashed it somewhere in a cave, far from any civilization, and suddenly he felt twice the pain he had originally been in, but his Izanagi had worked. He was alive. Sporting a thick new scar across his chest and back, and blind in one eye, but alive. That was all that mattered. 

Now he could do Izuna’s memory justice, and create his own peace away from those meddling Senju, Madara thought darkly, eyeing the pieces of skin and coagulated blood he’d liberated from Hashirama. First though, it was time to heal. 

With a wince, he stood up, and with his limited knowledge of medical ninjutsu, began inserting the cells into his own body. The process was long and painful, but worth it, in the end. Now he simply had to wait for the Senju DNA to activate. 

So he brooded in the darkness as his wounds healed. Half-finished plans flashed through his mind, but he found himself more and more exhausted with each one of them, eventually falling into a fitful sleep, which was fueled by a raging fever. 

As he slept, he saw things of things that were, and things that could have been. _Izuna was by his side, alive and smiling at him. On his other side were Hashirama and his brother, and the four of them watched over the developing village with identical smiles on their faces._

_Then they were gone, and instead Madara was by Izuna’s side as his brother was dying, holding his hand and whispering fervent prayers to whatever deities were out there._

_He was back in Konoha, watching as Izuna blushed brightly at a Senju woman he vaguely remembered, and he felt happy._

_Then he’s by the river, watching the fish swim with the current, while Hashirama was animatedly swinging his arms around, describing his dreams of peace. He remembered agreeing with him, at one point. Where did that go?_

_And then Izuna was dead and Madara was holding his brother’s eyes in his hands and he remembered crying harder than he ever had before._

_He was three years old and his mother was singing as she cooked up his favourite food, and he was staring at her swollen stomach, asking when the baby would come. She smiled at him and made him promise that when his little brother or sister was born he would protect them. Madara remembered determination washing over him as he nodded in excited agreement._

_Madara was twenty, and Izuna was seventeen, when the kitchen caught fire and Izuna was laughing like a hyena. Madara was red in the face as he valiantly tried putting out the fire, and then daintily offered Izuna a charred piece of food. Izuna just laughed harder._

_Madara was twenty-three, and he watched Tobirama run a sword through his brother._

_Hashirama paled when he hears of Izuna’s death, and Madara didn’t stop attacking. He pressed on, forcing Hashirama to attack back, and he snarls, even as he’s crying, but he didn’t stop, he never would, not until Izuna was avenged –_

_The peace treaty is signed and Madara feels hollow._

_The Uchiha and the Senju dropped their weapons and began mingling. Hashirama was laughing, Tobirama right beside him, and Madara ignored them both, ignored the celebration, and instead headed to Izuna’s grave – he couldn’t even stand the thought of burning his little brother – and spent the night there. Hashirama found him in the morning, asleep on the cool slab of stone, with dried tear tracks running down his cheeks._

_Hashirama’s sword was sticking out of his chest, and it’s not even the physical pain that got him. It’s the utter defeat, the fact that even after all that time Madara was weak and he couldn’t avenge Izuna._

 Madara remembered dying.

 Then Madara woke up, and big, fat tears rolled down to his chin as he curled up into a ball and wailed for his lost brother, for the clan that turned their backs to him when all he wanted to do was protect them, for the friend who did the unthinkable and stooped to his level, and the enemy with mocking red eyes gently handling his body as he hid it away.

Hashirama couldn’t stand burning his body, either.

Realization was a bitter thing, and cold, too. It uncurled in Madara’s stomach and made him feel sick. He gasped for air as any and all plans fell apart with that single thought, and he realized he had been a fool.

 

_-end prologue-_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's short, but it's only the epilogue. The actual chapters are significantly longer. 
> 
> If you can, please leave feedback!


	2. Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kame and Mei were nice people, Madara thought, undeserving of their fate. Something pushes him to help them survive.

The sun dawned over the mountains and into the small valley, bathing the small village with its early morning light. An old woman was smiling as she carefully picked berries of all kinds and placed them into a woven basket. A young woman walked up to her and handed her a plate of tomatoes. With a murmured ‘thank you’, the elder placed everything carefully into the basket; an assortment of fruit, vegetables, and some cheese and bread.

 “Are you going to visit our new neighbor, Grandmother?” the younger woman asked, arranging the multicolored cloth on her head in a small mirror.

 The Grandmother smiled gently at her. “Oh, yes. He is such a lovely boy, but he needs to take better care of himself.”

 “He is quite handsome, wouldn’t you say?” the younger one sighed, patting down her bangs restlessly. “Would you mind if I went up there with you?”

 The Grandmother chuckled. “Now now, what would young Tako-kun say? He is quite smitten with you, Kota-chan.”

 Kota huffed, rolling her green eyes. “He just can’t get a hint, Grandmother. I’m perfectly happy remaining friends.”

 The older woman laughed. “Oh, go on. Do your work, Kota-chan; I’ll see you later today.”

 Kota nodded. “Please greet shinobi-san when you meet him!”

 The Grandmother nodded as she stepped out onto the cobblestone path outside her house, and breathed in the clear morning air. The rest of the village was only just waking up, although she spotted Tako-kun and his younger sister having breakfast on their porch.

 “Good morning, Grandmother!” Tako greeted energetically. His younger sister, a cute little thing who resembled her younger brother exactly, grinned, showing off her one missing tooth.

 “Look, Grandmother! One of my teeth fell out this morning!”

 The old woman paused by their porched and smiled down at the young girl. “So I see. You are one brave little girl, aren’t you, sweetness?”

 The girl nodded. “Hey, Grandmother, I keep telling Tako-nii-san that Kota-san will never date him if he only brings her those stupid little gifts. A beautiful lady like her deserves only the best riches, not just some stupid flowers!”

 Grandmother patted the girl’s head, and spoke, “Sometimes, the least expensive gifts are the most thoughtful.” She looked at Tako. “But I do believe the issue at hand is that you put no thought into them, my darling boy. Perhaps try and find out what she likes and tailor a gift that way?”

 Tako nodded energetically. “Yes! I should. Thank you, Grandmother.”

 “Bye bye, Grandmother!” the little girl waved her off as she bounced back into her seat. Grandmother smiled and continued on her way on the cobblestone path, between the crops of wheat and up the mountain.

 The wooden cottage she was looking for was not far away, not longer than an hour’s walk, but it was tucked away between thick foliage and smooth stones. A thin river made its way down from between the cracks in the mountain back to the village, where it united with the main river, which was used for fishing by the rest of the villagers. Carefully, she hopped over the wet stones which made up the crossing over the river and made her way into the small clearing.

 The mountains seemed especially foreboding in this area, and Grandmother didn’t quite understand why the mysterious shinobi enjoyed it here. The trees were far too tall, the leaves far too oppressive and it was quite difficult to get to. For a civilian, she amended, in her head. Shinobi should not have a problem getting here.

 Coming up to the wooden door she knocked twice, paused, and twice again. No answer. Without hesitation, Grandmother opened the creaky door and opened the curtains and the windows, allowing some light to trickle into the shack. During her trek, the sun had almost made its way fully over the mountains, so there was a substantial amount of light available. She placed her basket on the small wooden table tucked into the corner and eyed the dusty kitchen surface.

 With a huff, she headed towards another wooden door, a smaller one, and knocked. No one opened the door, but there was, at least, an answer this time. Grandmother smiled when she heard the sleepy groan. She knocked again. “Madara-kun? Sweetheart, it’s Grandmother.”

 Another groan, but this time it was accompanied by heavy footsteps on the creaky wooden floor. The man opened the door, looking very disheveled. Grandmother smiled gently.

 “I brought you some food, dear. Put a shirt on and tie that ridiculous hair of yours,” Grandmother chastised, brushing it out of his face. Madara eyed her with tired eyes and nodded, shuffling back into the bedroom. Grandmother chuckled and walked back into the small kitchen area, taking out the food from the basket. Placing the tomatoes on a wooden board, she began looking for a knife, when Madara exited the bedroom, looking slightly more awake now that he was dressed in a large cotton shirt paired with shorts, and the bird’s nest in his hair somehow looking more unmanageable even with it pinned up in a messy bun.

 “I’ll do it,” Madara said quietly, gently pushing the old woman away and grasping a kunai, cutting the tomato with precise movements.

 “Thank you, sweetheart,” Grandmother replied fondly, turning her attention back towards the basket and pulling out the fresh goat’s cheese. “Here – I hope you will enjoy these. You need to eat better, boy,” she said, throwing him a disappointed look as she eyed his jutting collarbones.

 Madara shrugged, throwing her a cheeky smirk. “I know you’ll be here to nag me about it,” he replied, finishing up the tomato and moving onto the cheese. “Would you like some, as well?”

 “I’m alright, sweetness, but thank you,” Grandmother said, taking a seat at the table. “You eat up – you look like a starving dog, and I do mean that in the best possible way.”

 Madara chuckled, putting the food on a plate and also taking a seat, eating slowly. Grandmother hesitated.

 “You’ve never told me this – and I understand if you do not want to – but how did you lose sight in your eye?” she asked, eyeing him curiously. Madara stiffened, but continued eating as he closed both of his eyes – one dark in colour and the other grey with blindness.

 “There was a fight,” Madara began after he swallowed the food, looking squarely at grandmother. “In order to survive, I had to sacrifice it.”

 Grandmother frowned. “I truly do not know much of the shinobi world, but this does seem needlessly cruel.”

 Madara sighed. “I do regret doing it. I should have died in the valley, but pride did not allow me to do so.”

 “So you cheated death, then?”

 Madara froze and looked at Grandmother, who was looking back at him with calculating eyes. “Do not look so surprised, boy. I am old, but I am not stupid,” she chastised, leaning forward to grab a slice of cheese.

 The black-haired shinobi slowly relaxed as he stared into his bowl. “I did. There is a technique called Izanagi – it can turn reality into an illusion and an illusion into reality. To use it, I gave up my sight.”

 “It sounds very powerful,” Grandmother said mildly. “Who were you fighting, if you don’t mind me asking?”

 “My best friend,” Madara replied darkly, “and my worst enemy. He thinks me dead.”

 The movement was sudden, so Madara did not entirely expect it when Grandmother tucked a stray hair behind his ear. “You seem like a good man,” she said. “You certainly have not treated me or my people badly, and I do know that you could have massacred us without much thought. Power is rolling off of you, child, and I do not doubt that you are suppressing it, even now as I feel the thick waves of it.”

 The oppressive feeling Grandmother always got from Madara diminished somewhat as the words registered, a sign that the shinobi was suppressing his power even more. Grandmother smiled.

“I’m sure that the people in the valley would not feel it as acutely as I do. But I was raised by shinobi parents, so I am slightly more attuned to it than them. Tell me, child – “ with these words she leaned in “ – I know that you belong overseas. Where are you from, originally, Madara-kun?”

 Madara’s gaze was dark and threatening. “What does it concern you?” he asked, unleashing his true power. Grandmother froze at the roiling waves washing over her skin, staring at Madara in something that was not quite fear. Apprehension, perhaps.

 “That was the line,” she murmured, feeling her heart beating out of her chest, “I apologize for crossing it. Forgive an old woman for her curiosity.”

 After a few more seconds of tense silence, Madara relaxed, and said, “Curiosity killed the cat.”

 “Satisfaction brought it back,” Grandmother replied, quickly, gathering her bearings. “Someday, I hope you would trust me as I trust you, Madara-kun. I hope that day will come before death catches up to me.”

 Madara simply looked at her and inclined his head. “Someday,” he spoke. “Not today.”

 “Not today,” Grandmother agreed, ensuring that the shawl around her head was still tightly bound. Madara noticed, and stood up to move behind the old woman, gently slapping her hands away and doing the wrapping himself. Grandmother relaxed into his gentle touch.

 “Winter is almost here. We’ll begin our harvest in a few days,” Grandmother spoke.

 “I’ll come down and help,” Madara promised, tucking the red material under itself. “There, done.”

 “Thank you, dear.” Grandmother stood up and made her way towards the basket. Critically, she eyed the shinobi. “How old are you, Madara-kun?”

 Madara frowned and paused in his movements. “I think – I’m turning thirty this winter.”

 “Young,” she chided, “but you look much older.”

 Madara shrugged. “I don’t particularly care, one way or another,” he replied.

 “You should,” Grandmother said. “What if you meet this old friend of yours? Living well is the best revenge, and if he thinks you dead, what a surprise would it be to see you alive and healthy, but also successful. Don’t you think?” she asked as she made her way to the door. Distractedly, Madara nodded as he escorted her out.

 “Thank you, for the food and the company,” Madara said, inclining his head.

 “Oh, sweet boy,” Grandmother said, placing a hand on his cheek. “Perhaps you should visit our village more often. You need to talk to people more. Perhaps find a nice wife – I know a few girls your age who wouldn’t mind having a dashing young man like you.”

 Madara laughed. “Oh, Grandmother. If you knew what I’ve done in this life you would not be saying that.”

 “The past is the past,” she replied stubbornly. “Perhaps you should stop looking back and build a future, instead.” With a smile, she turned around and walked a few steps away from the porch of the small house, before gasping.

 Madara, who had not closed the door yet, asked, “Is everything alright, Grandmother?”

 The old woman dropped her basket and began running as best as she could at her age. Alarmed, Madara grabbed a kunai and followed, stopping in his tracks at what he saw.

 Multiple thick columns of smoke were rising from the village below them. As quick as a flash, Madara lifted the old woman in his arms and made his way down the mountain, only putting her down once they reached the base. “Stay here,” he told her seriously and gave her his kunai. “If anyone comes, stab them with the pointy end. Do not more,” he warned, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder. “I will investigate and I promise I will come back.”

 Tearfully, Grandmother couldn’t do more than nod and look fearfully at her small town. That was enough for Madara, as he jumped over the rocks he had placed Grandmother behind and took to the surrounding trees, sparse as they were. Activating his Sharingan, he assessed the situation with a sharp eye.

 There were multiple chakra signatures, but they were very faint. As if to suggest low chakra reserves. With narrowed eyes, Madara realised the cause – they weren’t shinobi. They were samurai. And they were setting fire to the houses and to the crops. His attention was drawn by a cry, and he spotted a young girl being separated from what looked like her older brother. Said boy was thrashing in the samurai’s arms, until the samurai drew his sword and slashed it across his throat. The girl gave a terrifying cry, one of a wounded animal, and Madara instantly pictured himself and Izuna.

 Without thought, he lashed out, snapping the girl’s captive’s throat with one quick movement and liberating the bloody sword from the other and running him through with it. As if burned, he dropped it, and turned around to face the crying young girl, who had scrambled over to her brother’s body and was noisily hiccupping. Madara gently pulled her hands away from the boy’s throat, where she was trying to stop the bleeding, and cradled her close to his chest. He wasn’t one for gentle treatment, usually – but he understood the loss of a sibling.

 “I’m sorry,” he spoke into her ear as he kept her in a tight hold. She was crying into his chest and beating him with tiny fists.

 “Let me go! I have to get to nii-san!”

 “It’s too late,” Madara said, holding her even tighter. “It’s too late for him. He wouldn’t want this for you. You have to live for your brother’s memory. I’m sorry I couldn’t save him.” Even while he was speaking platitudes, he began moving, bringing the girl – who couldn’t have been older than six years old – to where he had left Grandmother.

 The woman was still there, with tears in her eyes as she gestured at him to give her the girl. He complied, and when the old woman began whispering condolences to the girl, he jumped back into the fight.

 He picked up the samurai’s sword – he wouldn’t be needing it, after all – and followed the remaining chakra signatures as he tried to put a stop to the assault of the small village. Madara fought tirelessly, dancing in between the enemies and causing them to foolishly stab one another in panic, before there was only one left, who was desperately trying to run away.

 Madara appeared in front of him and placed the liberated sword at his throat. “Talk,” he growled, Sharingan spinning. The samurai’s lips were pursed and he shook his head once. His posture was proud and Madara realized he’d have to pull the information out of him through less favorable means.

 “Tsukuyomi.”

 After a few seconds of the genjutsu being cast, Madara dropped the samurai and slit his throat, watching the blood soak into the ground. Carefully, he assessed his surroundings, only to realize there were no other signs of life.

 Now that the adrenaline was out of his system, he felt something in his gut wrench at the thought of telling Grandmother of her village’s death, and he realized he did not even have any means to put out the fires. He was never good at water jutsu, he thought with a scowl as he carefully maneuvered between the flames. Aside from that ridiculous joke he shared with Hashirama when they were younger, he had never managed to grasp that particular art.

 Solemnly, he approached Grandmother and the young girl, who had fallen into a fitful sleep in Grandmother’s arms. Tearfully, the old woman looked up at him. Upon seeing his expression, her face crumbled and she began sobbing quietly, holding onto the unconscious girl for dear life.

 “They were sent by the shogun,” Madara spoke quietly. “I couldn’t save them, but I did kill all the samurai responsible.”

 Grandmother shook her head, and through her tears, spoke. “It doesn’t matter if they did for their actions. It matters that my people are gone, and I couldn’t protect them.” She closed her eyes and nuzzled the sleeping girl’s hair. “And poor Mei-chan – her brother is dead, now. She has no one.”

 “No one but you,” Madara said, crouching. “I’m sorry I couldn’t put out the fires. I would, but… I don’t know any water – “

 “You’ve done enough,” Grandmother said. “You saved Mei’s life. She has so much to live for. She’ll have to do it without her dear brother, but she will manage.”

 Hesitantly, Madara tugged Grandmother into his embrace, and awkwardly patted her back. The old woman fell bonelessly into his arms and she cried quietly. “What will we do?” she whispered. “I’m too old to fend for Mei. I – how will I provide for her?”

 The words escaped Madara’s mouth before he could think twice of them. “Go to Konohagakure.”

Grandmother looked up at him questioningly. “Konohagakure? Where is that?”

 Madara cursed his words but continued. “A shinobi village, but it’s open to everyone. They would – they’d treat you well. Knowing their leader, he’d come by every night to tuck Mei into bed and to have a conversation with you every night.”

 “That’s where you’re from,” Grandmother whispered. “And this leader – he was your best friend.”

Madara silently appreciated Grandmother’s sharp mind and nodded. “You would have to take a boat over Kanashi Ocean, and you’d make port in the Tea Country. From there, you can ask for directions to Konoha – it won’t be far, just a week’s walk north.”

 “What do you mean, ‘you’?” Grandmother asked, narrowing her wet eyes. “You’re not coming with us.”

 “I’ll escort you to the port,” Madara agreed, “but from thereon, you’ll have to make do. I am too recognizable in those parts.”

 “And if they turn me away at the gates?” Grandmother challenged. “Who will fight for Mei’s right to live peacefully?”

 Madara visibly hesitated as he looked at the young girl. Her tear stained cheeks were swollen from crying and her hands were dirtied with her brother’s blood. Resolutely, he looked at Grandmother straight in the eye. “Tell them that you need to speak to the Hokage. Make a fuss if you have to. And once you’re there, tell Hashirama your story. He won't turn you down, the sentimental bastard."

 Grandmother looked at him, really looked at him, and a small smile stretched the corners of her mouth, even as her eyes were still crying. “Okay. I will.”

 Madara inhaled sharply, unnerved by her stare, and said, “Alright. Come, we’ll go up to my cabin, and tomorrow we can start traveling to the port.”

 With a nod, Grandmother stood up with Mei, and when her legs shook dangerously, Madara held the six year old with his left arm and steadied Grandmother with the other. Slowly, they walked up the cobblestone path.

 The trek took longer than usual, on account of Grandmother being slower than usual, but Madara held his tongue and slowly walked beside her, still holding onto Mei. The girl hadn’t woken up, but Madara was unconcerned, even as Grandmother fussed.

 “She’s gone through trauma,” Madara explained, tightening his hold on the girl, “let her rest.”

 Nodding, Grandmother replied with, “Her brother slept for days when their father died. It hit him even harder than it did when their mother passed away. Mei was only a year old, but Tako-kun was ten when their father was killed by a bandit. He was always holed up in his room, only emerging once a day for food and to use the bathroom.”

 “Depression,” Madara said darkly, “I am well acquainted with it.”

 “Who did you lose?” Grandmother asked softly.

 There was a long pause before Madara even answered, long enough that Grandmother thought he wouldn’t be answering at all. “My brother,” he said, eventually. “Izuna. I had more brothers, and I lost all of them, but Izuna’s death hit me the hardest.”

 “I’m sorry,” Grandmother said sincerely. “I know it must have been difficult.”

 “His last request was not to make peace with Hashirama,” Madara replied. “Eventually, I did anyway, but I always felt like I was going against his last wishes.”

 Grandmother didn’t know what to say, but Madara continued nonetheless, as if a dam had been broken.

 “I was depressed, at first. I didn’t know how to react, so I just fought blindly. I loved the fighting and the taste of my own blood – I still do – but eventually that depression subsided slightly, enough so that Hashirama and I could make peace and found Konoha. Then, when Hashirama was elected leader instead of me, it came back with a vengeance, and with it, madness,” Madara said, eyes on the afternoon sun, seemingly lost in another world.

 “I tried to destroy the village, and Hashirama finally stopped giving me second and third chances. We fought and he killed me,” Madara spoke with finality. His eyes found Grandmother’s, expecting disgust.

Grandmother, instead, was looking at him with affection. “I am happy you are better now.”

 Feeling redness creep up in his cheeks, Madara hastily looked away. “I never asked you. What is your real name?” he asked instead.

 “Kame,” Grandmother replied, “my name is Kame. I suppose I should start using it again, eh?” When Madara cast her a curious glance, she elaborated. “Grandmother was something the villagers used to address me. I was not their actual grandmother – I’ve never had children of my own – but it was a symbol of my protection – much like of a grandmother to her grandchildren.” Her face soured, and her lips tightened. “And look how well that went,” she murmured, voice shaking.

 “You’ll be fine,” Madara said gruffly, hoisting Mei higher in his arms. “Both of you. Nothing bad will happen to you while I’m around.”

 “Thank you, Madara-kun. Truly.”

 Cheeks reddening again, Madara spotted the clearing the shack in the distance and picked up the pace, taking the lead. Kame followed, lagging behind slightly.

 When they got to the small house, Madara wordlessly put the sleeping girl in his bed and covered her in the thickest blankets he had. With a quiet fire jutsu he started the fire in the small fireplace, before Kame stiffened and keened. Madara turned around to look questioningly at her; she was just staring at the fire with a dazed look in her eyes, and if Madara had been using his Sharingan, he would have noticed her heartbeat spiking.

 “Put it out,” she whispered, still looking directly at the fire. Madara could see the flames reflected in her glassy blue eyes. “Put it out!” she said more fiercely, and Madara hurried to comply.

 Of course the flames would unsettle her. She just witnessed her village burn. Silently chastising himself, Madara used the water from the kettle and poured it over the flames until they were out. Turning around to Kame, she was still standing there, looking at the wisps of smoke from the charred logs, and she was crying again. Madara cursed to himself and helped her sit down on the same chair she had sat in earlier in the day.

 She was shaking. Wordlessly, Madara filled a glass with water and offered it to her, and then sat down next to her as he silently waited for her to calm down.

 “Why did they do this?” the old woman asked in a small voice. “We weren’t doing anything bad. We just lived our lives. We didn’t bother anyone. Why?”

 Madara jumped as her hand found his and her glassy eyes stared into his desperately.

 “The Shogun, from a city to the west, gave the order,” Madara explained again, rubbing comforting circles in Kame’s palm. “I don’t know why. The samurai weren’t privy to the reasons.”

 Kame was still crying, which was understandable. However, Madara couldn’t stand it. Her tears were rolling down the deep wrinkles on her face, and she looked so very fragile.

 “It will get better, in time,” Madara said suddenly, looking away but tightening his hold on her hand. “It will, I promise. I promise that Konoha will treat you well, and I promise that the idiot Hashirama will read bedtime stories to Mei. I promise that she’ll have a good future in that village, and I promise that the rest of your life will be as peaceful as possible. This, I swear.”

 Madara didn’t see Kame nod, but he did feel it when she pulled her hand away from his. She stood up on shaking legs and slowly moved to the bedroom, where he saw her lie down with Mei before the door swung shut.

 As he drank the rest of her water, he planned their route and hoped that he could keep them safe for the duration of the journey.

 He needed to find a map first.

 Madara decided to begin searching at night, when he was sure Kame and Mei would be sleeping. He silently stepped into his bedroom to retrieve some clean clothes – the ones he was wearing currently were still drenched in blood, and he hadn’t wanted to disturb the two sleeping – and once he was properly attired in his old navy shinobi clothes (there was no need for armor, not for what he was doing) he left a note on the table in case Kame woke up and slipped out of the small house.

 Just to be safe, he cast a genjutsu over the clearing, ensuring that any wanderers would only see an especially dark and frightening corner of the forest and would avoid it altogether. With that, he fell into a quick rhythm that reminded him of missions he used to run for Konoha – fast and unrelenting. Within the hour, he found a small town not dissimilar to Kame’s, but with disappointment realized that it was too small to have any inns where he could ask for a map.

 Without much guilt, he broke a window to the small – and only – shop and quickly identified a map of the area, writing an apology note to the owner, before he headed back to the cabin.

 Thankfully, Kame and Mei were still asleep when Madara returned, so he bundled up the note he left and threw it in the trash. Using the light from a small candle he unwrapped the map he’d liberated from the shop and began investigating the area.

Thinking back to his arrival in the village five years ago, Madara quickly found it was called Kawasaki. Quickly scanning the map, Madara surmised that the quickest way to a port which seemed to travel to Tea Country was to go southwest through the Osoroshidesu Mountains. Madara narrowed his eyes at the printed warnings on the edges of the map.

Apparently, Osoroshidesu was known for its difficult terrain and opportunistic bandits. Madara smirked. Well, they shouldn’t be a problem. Not with him around.

It would take some time to reach the port, though. On his own, Madara could easily cover a sixth of a distance between Kawasaki and the port in an hour. Even if he traveled with only Mei, he could easily carry her and only take slightly longer.

That was not an option with Kame around. They’d have to walk, and that could easily take maybe a week or so, and with winter just around the corner… Madara winced. Perhaps he could carry them both – Mei on his back like some sort of monkey and Kame on his front while he ran. Somehow he doubted they’d be happy with that.

He was right. Come morning, when Kame emerged from his bedroom with apologies for stealing his sleeping space, Madara waved off her concerns and told her to sit down.

“I’ll have to carry you,” Madara told her as he pointed the route they would be taking.

“Absolutely not,” Kame said resolutely. “I will not be carried like some baby. I can walk.”

“I don’t doubt that you can,” Madara replied through gritted teeth, “but if I don’t carry both you and Mei, this will take weeks, just to get to Port Tazawa, over here. And that means we will only get there for winter, which means that you and Mei won’t be able to cross over into the Tea Country. It’s a long sail until you reach the shinobi islands,” Madara said, “at least two weeks by ship, and that’s if you get lucky and get a fast vessel. No one wants to sail for that long during winter. If you want to make it to Konoha before the weather sours, I’ll have to carry you,” Madara explained. “Trust me, it’s the only way.”

“Absolutely not,” Kame replied stubbornly. “I will not be carried.”

“Is this a matter of pride?” Madara demanded. “If it’s pride, it’s stupid.”

Kame’s lips pursed but she didn’t budge. Madara groaned.

“Then we’ll need supplies, enough for three weeks. And extra to account for any delays. And then we’ll need to settle down for the winter in Tozana, if we miss the last ship, so we’ll have to find lodging there, and you will have to get a job, and maybe I’ll help here and there.” Madara closed his eyes in frustration. “You’re making this needlessly difficult.”

 Kame crossed her arms and pursed her lips, but said nothing. Madara stared back at her, before sighing in defeat. “Very well; if you insist. We should be good with the food we have now to get to the nearest village, but once we get there you’ll have to wait while I get enough rations for all of us, not to mention coats and first aid kits.”

 Kame’s eyes softened and she approached the dark-haired shinobi. “Madara-kun… thank you, sweetheart. You don’t have to do any of this.”

 “I want to,” Madara replied, “as payback for all these years of me being a burden on you.”

 “You were never a burden,” Kame protested vehemently. “I always enjoyed visiting you, regardless of how utterly unfriendly you were at the beginning.”

 “You’ve grown on me,” Madara groaned in response, “like a weed. When did that happen?”

 “I think I got you with my home made pastries,” Kame replied, smiling softly. “Not even big, bad shinobi can resist them.”

 “True enough,” Madara nodded, smirking. “It’s still early. We could set off today, and we should make it to the next village by nightfall. I’ve packed most of what we’ll need – but if there’s anything else you want, look for it now.”

 “I’ll wake up Mei-chan,” Kame said, shuffling into the bedroom. Madara nodded and kept his eyes on the map, briefly activating his Sharingan so that he could memorize their route. Once that was done, he packed the map away with the rest of their supplies and picked up the heaviest bag to sling it across his shoulder, when Kame and Mei emerged, the latter brushing the sleep out of her eyes. When the girl made eye contact with Madara, she offered a very small, hesitant, smile, exposing the space in the middle of her teeth where one had fallen out. Madara offered a tight smile in response and handed the much lighter pack to Kame. With a nod of thanks, Kame took it and then picked up a slice of cheese on bread and offered it to the girl.

 “Eat up,” she said, “we have a long road ahead of us.”

 Nibbling on the offered food, Mei asked, “Where are we going?”

 “Somewhere nice and peaceful,” Kame said, brushing away some of the stray blonde hairs from the girl’s forehead. “Madara-kun will make sure of it.”

 Madara nodded gruffly, and when Mei finished her breakfast, opened the door. “Let’s go,” he instructed. “From now on, you’ll have to listen to what I tell you without complaint. Doing so will keep you safe.”

 Both Kame and Mei nodded, and Mei took the elder’s hand. “Grandmother,” she said, “will it be pretty, where we’re going?”

 After a brief pause, Madara answered in Kame’s stead. “Konoha,” he spoke, “is the most beautiful Hidden Village I’ve seen. The trees are tall, and there’s a large mountain with exposed rock guarding over the village day and night. There’s even a river flowing right through the middle of it.”

 “It sounds pretty,” Mei said.

 “It is,” Madara confirmed, eyes distant.

 “Mei-chan,” Kame spoke, “I think it would be best if you didn’t call me Grandmother anymore. My name is Kame.”

 Mei assessed the elder with clear blue eyes, and nodded. “Alright, Kame-bachan, I will.”

 Smiling, Kame tightened her hold on Mei’s hand and fixed her eyes on Madara’s back. “Madara-kun,” she addressed, “are those shinobi clothes?”

 “Yes,” Madara replied. “These in particular were custom made for me. They are fire proof and extremely durable.”

 “And what of the symbol on your shoulders?”

 Madara stiffened and absentmindedly brushed said symbol. “This is my clan’s symbol – the uchiwa which makes our flames burn hotter.” Madara turned around and looked at the two behind him. “This is why I was unable to put out the flames last night – I am a Fire Release user, mainly, which means that Water Release is very difficult for me to perform.”

 “What does that mean?” Mei asked curiously. “What’s chakra?”

 Raising an eyebrow, Madara asked, “Would you like to learn the basics of the shinobi arts?”

 “Maybe just a bit of theory, for now,” Kame interrupted, smiling gently at the curious young girl. “Wouldn’t want to get ahead of ourselves.”

 “Perhaps if you get the hang of it, I might teach you some tricks,” Madara told Mei. “Couldn’t hurt, especially since we’ll be travelling for quite some time. A way to stave off the boredom.”

 “Okay!” Mei said brightly. “So what’s chakra?”

 “First of all, everyone has some chakra – life energy, if you will – and those who run out of it, die. It is produced within the chakra coils and it circulates throughout the body in a network called the Chakra Pathway System; think of it like your veins, and imagine it as a second set of veins throughout your body, only instead of them carrying blood, they have chakra.”

 They continued in such a manner for a few hours as they walked westwards, with Ayame animatedly asking questions and Madara answering them the best he could, until they reached the coast. The waves were crashing against the exposed rocks, and, in the distance, they could spot a collection of small, green islands.

 “Is that where we’re going?” Mei asked.

 Madara chuckled. “No. You wouldn’t be able to see our destination, not even when we reach the port. It’s too far away. I think we’ve gone too far west. Shouldn’t be a problem; if we follow the coastline for a bit more and then go straight to south we will be on track. Look over there, though – “ he placed a hand on Mei’s shoulder and pointed further away from them. “There’s a village there. If you two are able to walk a bit further, we can have some lunch and rest for a bit before we can continue on.”

 “Will we sleep there?” Kame asked, narrowing her eyes in hopes of seeing better. “If I remember correctly there is an inn which should be able to house us.”

 “It would mean we’ll lose half a day’s travel,” Madara said, “and I’d rather not. Besides, I doubt we have the money to pay for room.”

 “Oh,” Mei sighed. “Will we be camping, then? I’ve never gone camping.”

 “That’s why I’m here – to teach you.” Madara offered her a smile. “Come on. It shouldn’t take us longer than an hour to get there.”

 “Can you tell me more about chakra?” the little girl asked, running up to him and grasping his hand. “So far it’s really interesting!”

 “I will,” Madara nodded. “Kame-san,” he said, looking at the old woman, “are you alright to continue?”

 “As long as the pace isn’t too punishing,” she nodded, following after him. “I may be old, but I am tough.”

 Madara harrumphed. “I can see that,” he murmured, then turned around to face Mei. “Alright. As I’ve told you before, I am a Fire Release user, which means my chakra is best suited to creating fire jutsu. But there are many other possibilities – my other personal favorite is Earth Release, but there’s also Wind, Lightning, Water, and, in some rare instances, Wood.”

 “Wood?” Mei crinkled her nose. “That sounds really lame.”

 Unexpectedly, Madara began laughing. “Oh, it is. But it is quite helpful, at times. For instance, the leader of Konohagakure – the village we’re heading to – is a master of Wood Release, and as such has managed to grow the village’s borders very quickly and without much cost. I have no doubt the village is expanding even today, after five years.”

 “Woah,” Mei said, looking impressed. “Why can’t you do it, if it’s useful?”

 “You need to be of a certain descent,” Madara explained patiently, “and even then, it is very unlikely to use it effectively. The leader’s brother cannot do it, for example.”

 “What about other chakra types?” Mei asked, carefully hopping over some gravel while Madara offered his arm for stabilization.

 “With enough practice, anyone can use any Release,” Madara said, waiting for Kame to catch up as he helped her down the slope as well. “But, as I said before, opposing natures are incredibly difficult to grasp. I can perform _some_ Water jutsu, but nothing on a large scale.”

 “What is my chakra nature?” Mei inquired curiously. “Oooh, I bet I’ll be Wind!”

 “There are simple ways of finding out,” Madara replied, “but I doubt they’d be easy to reach, especially here. There is a special type of paper made out of trees which are grown and fed with chakra, and when in contact with the user’s chakra, it reacts in different ways according to different affinities.”

 Mei pouted, but cheered up when she saw that they were closing in on the village. “We’re here!” she shouted cheerfully and began sprinting full speed towards the entrance. Her advance was stopped by Madara who had quickly caught up with her and grabbed her arm.

 “Not so fast,” he chided. “We don’t know if they’re friendly, and as such you will be staying behind while I investigate.” With those words, he directed the two to a patch of grass behind the village and put down his pack, pulling out a blanket as he did so.

 “Are we having a picnic?” Mei asked, sitting down on the blanket after Madara placed it on the ground.

 “We will,” Madara nodded, and waited until Kame sat down to continue. “Don’t move while I’m gone – it shouldn’t take too long, but just to be safe, here, take these.” He gave them each a kunai. “This is a kunai,” he instructed Mei. “I’ll teach you how to use it someday. But for now don’t leave them out of your sight and make sure to be careful not to accidentally stab yourself.”

 “Did you ever stab yourself with these, Madara-kun?” Kame asked a bit bemusedly.

 Madara turned a slight shade of pink. “There’s a reason three year olds shouldn’t hold pointy objects,” he murmured to himself. “Right. I’ll be back in a bit. Drink some water and relax.”

 With those words, he headed towards the village and shrouded himself in a simple genjutsu meant for blending in. Walking leisurely into the village, he quickly realized that his fears were unfounded and that it was a settlement just like Kawasaki. Still, he put his genjutsu to use when he snuck into a shop and liberated some bread, some fruit, and a bunch of lasting edibles which would be useful on the road. Silently stuffing them into a bag offered by the shop – he’d forgotten his backpack at the makeshift camp, like the fool he was – he moved on and searched for somewhere that sold camping items, like tents and sleeping bags. His mood soured when he realized that as a small village it wouldn’t sell such amenities, so instead he doubled back to the original shop and liberated some more blankets and a pillow or two, as well as a couple of tarps.

 This didn’t take him longer than half an hour, but he felt famished when he finally left the village so he quickly made his way back to where he had left Kame and Mei.

 “There we go. Here’s some food,” he said, giving out some of the food in the bags and stashing the rest away in his backpack.

 “Didn’t you say we had no money?” Kame asked, biting into an apple. “How did you get these?”

 “Don’t ask questions you’re not prepared to hear the answer to,” Madara answered flippantly, taking an orange for himself and peeling it. Mei giggled as she bit into a loaf of bread hungrily.

 “Thank you, regardless,” Kame snorted, looking down at her meal.

 “How long will it take us to reach the port?” Mei asked.

 “A week, give or take,” Madara replied, “although at the pace we’re going, it will probably be slightly longer than that.”

 “You said that on your own you could make the trip in a day,” Kame said. “How fast can shinobi run?”

 Madara hummed to himself. “Well, an average shinobi could probably traverse the distance we’ve covered so far in about forty-five minutes. I could probably do it in half an hour.”

 “But we’ve been walking for hours!” Mei gasped. “How do you do that?”

 “Chakra,” Madara replied. “We use it to reinforce our feet, so we do not tire easily. In addition, since our training begins we practice a multitude of skills, including speed. Without chakra I could still probably cover the distance in a little over an hour and a half, although I would be significantly more tired at the end.”

 “Woah,” Mei whispered, amazed. “Could you teach me?”

 Madara blinked, taken aback. “Teach you to run like that? Not a chance. You need to train your body first before you even begin to train your chakra.”

 Mei scowled in response and bit into her bread.

 Madara rolled his eyes. “Although, I suppose I could get you started on the basics.”

 The girl’s face brightened in response, and the reaction startled a laugh out of Kame. “I do believe you’ve got a fan, Madara-kun,” she said, smiling softly.

 A smile twitched at the corners of Madara’s mouth, but he stubbornly refused it. Instead, he kept his stern demeanor. “Your first lesson will be tonight.”

 “Yes! What will you teach me? Is it going to be an epic jutsu?”

 “I will teach you how to set up camp without any supplies.”

 Mei deflated instantly, staring suspiciously at Madara. “Really?”

 The Uchiha nodded. “Really. And I’ll also be teaching you some more chakra theory.”

 “I guess that stuff’s interesting,” the little girl mused, and then brightened. “I’ll become an epic ninja in no time, just like you, Madara-sensei!”

 As he watched the little girl chat animatedly to Kame, a smile still stubbornly pulling at his lips, Madara really missed Konoha. 

_-end part one-_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it - please point out any mistakes you've spotted!


	3. Machination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madara shows his fangs. The world snarls back.

They made good time until nighttime, when Kame-san requested they stop.

 

“I’m afraid I can’t travel anymore,” she said, grimacing. “Can we make camp?”

 

Madara nodded and scanned their surroundings. Pointing to the thick forest before them, he said, “Let’s go there. It should provide enough cover for tonight.” As the two followed his orders, he began snapping branches off the nearby trees for a campfire.

 

“Mei,” he called. The girl dutifully bounced up to him. “See these low hanging branches? These are perfect for setting up cover for the night. If you throw a tarp over them, you see how it looks like a tent?”

 

“And then we can put our blankets inside and sleep there,” Mei concluded. “I’ll do that!”

 

Madara nodded as he secured the corners of the tarp to the ground with a few shuriken, and then as Mei arranged the inside of the tent began constructing the campfire. Kame approached him slowly and sat down in front of the tent, looking deep in thought.

 

“I cannot thank you enough for this, Madara-kun,” she told him earnestly. “Without you… well, both Mei and I would have died. Not to mention the care with which you’ve been handling her – “

 

“Say nothing of it,” Madara replied, busying himself with the fire. “Don’t get scared when I light the flame.”

 

Kame nodded. “I’ll try.” Aside from a flinch when Madara breathed out the fire into the twigs, she relaxed when she saw the flames contained by the stones around them.

 

“Mei is a good child,” Madara said suddenly, looking at the girl where she was dutifully sorting out the inside of the tent. “And she is intelligent.”

 

“You must have a soft spot for children,” Kame replied, studying him intently. “You said you had five siblings.”

 

“All of them younger,” Madara nodded. “I helped my mother raised them.”

  

“All done!” Mei announced, dropping between Madara and Kame. “There’s not that much space so we’ll be sleeping pretty tightly together,” she said, seemingly unbothered by that fact.

 

“You and Kame-san will be sleeping together,” Madara told her, ruffling her hair. “I’ll stay out here, to keep watch.”

 

“You won’t sleep? At all?” Kame asked, concerned.

 

Madara shrugged. “I’ll probably drift off at some point, but I don’t require that much sleep anyway.”

 

“Do we have any food?” Mei asked, hugging her knees.

 

The shinobi nodded and stood up, dusting off his trousers, and chucked the bag at the other two. “Don’t eat everything; I’ll see if I can go catch a squirrel or something.” With those words, Madara went into the forest, only returning with the prize of two dead rodents.

 

After their meal, Kame and Mei went into the tent and quickly fell asleep, and Madara extinguished their fire and activated his Sharingan so he could see through the thick darkness. The terrain they had just covered was quite flat, so he could still see the village from earlier, where a few torches were burning in the night. Everything was quite calm, so before he realized it he fell into a light sleep, perched on the branch above the tent.

 

It all went to hell in the early hours of the morning.

 

Madara was awakened by the sound of distant screaming and with practiced ease he dropped out of the tree and quickly analyzed his surroundings. Their camp was undisturbed, but he located the source of the screaming without problem – the village was burning. He froze when he noticed the group of heavily armored samurai laying waste to the villagers, in what he could only say was a very similar scene to the one from Kawasaki.

 

“Oh gods,” he heard Kame-san whisper, and he quickly pulled her away from the view, grabbing a sleeping Mei as he went. He carried the two of them a short distance away until he found a good hiding spot, and shrouding it in genjutsu.

 

“Sit here, do not move,” he barked to a terrified Kame and a blearily blinking Mei. “Do you understand me?”

 

“Yes,” Mei said, “what’s happening?”

 

“Calm her down,” Madara ordered, disappearing from view and appearing back at the camp. Without hesitation, he grabbed all of their necessities and quickly returned them to the makeshift hiding spot, where Mei was trying to speak to Kame, even as the woman was sobbing in fear.

 

“Damn it,” Madara grunted, pushing Mei gently away. “Woman, you’re making too much noise. You need to shut it.”

 

“I can’t,” Kame breathed heavily at him, hiccupping. “I’m trying.”

 

“Try harder,” Madara ordered bluntly, leaving the hiding spot and taking to the trees. The samurai were heading their way, into the forest, and they’d spotted what remained of their campfire and the leftover tarp. The shinobi swore and returned to Mei and Kame, grasping the older woman’s chin and forcing her to look into his Sharingan eye. Within seconds, she was unconscious and blissfully quiet.

 

“What did you do to her?” Mei asked, bordering on hysterical. “What’s going on?”

 

“Shut up,” Madara said, ducking low and keeping an eye out. “And duck. I’ll explain later.” Hesitantly, Mei complied, pressing her body close to the ground under the thick foliage, and not a second too late.

 

There were about fifty samurai marching through the forest, all wearing thick armor and holding swords. Madara gritted his teeth as he thought of a jutsu which could take them all out in one, but realized that his only option was to use a large scale Katon which would inevitable burn down the surrounding forest as well. He decided it was best to lay low until they were gone, until the leader – presumably – held up the shuriken Madara had used to secure the tent, and said one single word: “Shinobi.”

 

Madara tensed, throwing his arm over Mei, whom he felt was shaking but was thankfully keeping quiet. The samurai leader tucked the small weapons away, and sheathing his sword, forming –

 

 _Fuck_ , Madara thought to himself, _this one suspects a genjutsu_. It wasn’t an unusual assumption to make – he’d already spotted the camp with the shuriken, which were typically a shinobi weapon, and was now suspecting there was some prey hidden with jutsu. _And if he was smart enough to infer this, surely he would be able to release the technique_. Having not cast it with the Sharingan, it was susceptible of being disrupted by anyone who knew how to do it.

 

“Whatever happens,” Madara whispered to Mei, who flinched, “stay here, no matter what. Remember your kunai. Stay by Kame-san. And do not, under any circumstances, leave. Understood?”

 

“Yes, sir,” Mei replied quietly, shuffling closer to Kame. Madara nodded and kept his Sharingan eye trained onto the enemy as he formed the tiger seal, and watched him mold his chakra.

 

“ _Genjutsu kai_ ,” the samurai spoke.

 

Once he felt his technique failing, Madara pulled out a kunai and jumped out of cover, taking their attention away from where Kame and Mei were hidden. The samurai yelled in surprise and threw themselves forward to attack him, but Madara was by far better than any of them. His eye scanned all of his enemy’s movements, and decided that the one to his left would hit first, so he pulled out an exploding tag and slammed it on the man’s chest, and then kicked him backwards.

 

The sun hadn’t even risen yet, so Madara had the advantage of darkness, which, coupled with his overall skills, ensured that he wouldn’t be losing this fight. Still, it was far too close to his companions for his liking, so he was vicious in his movements. The second his foot connected with the first samurai, he used his right hand to swivel himself around so the momentum would bring down the other two flanking him. When one of the fallen made eye contact, Madara quickly used the Sharingan to pull him into a deep genjutsu which ensured that the man would begin to attack his comrades.

 

Less than two seconds later, the man he’d kicked back exploded and took out with him about ten of the other samurai. Not pausing to appreciate his own handiwork, Madara pushed forward, using a samurai’s forward momentum as he was charging and using his body to sweep out the others coming his way, before slitting his throat with his kunai.

 

He missed this. He missed the fighting dearly, and even though this was nothing compared to his spars with Izuna or Hashirama, it was still giving him a thrill like no other. He levered himself up using a tree and swung around wildly, kicking the samurai with chakra-enhanced kicks. With a wild grin, he dispatched a few more samurai, finally slitting the throat of the second to last and coming to stand before the leader.

 

“Hi,” he said, twirling the kunai in his hand. “I’d like to know why you’re burning villages.”

 

The samurai looked at him assessingly, sword at the ready. “I will die either way,” the samurai replied. “Why should I say anything?”

 

“Because then you choose between dying painlessly or not,” Madara shrugged. “Either way, it’s all the same to me.”

 

“Spar with me,” the samurai said, “I would like to test my sword fighting against yours. Once you win, I will tell you.”

  
“If you know I’ll win,” Madara spoke, “then why would you try?”

 

“Because, where I come from, I am the best,” the samurai spoke, not arrogantly, but honestly. “You are a skilled shinobi. I would like to know if I come close to your level.”

 

Madara raised an eyebrow, but complied nevertheless. “Very well,” he said as he picked up a fallen soldier’s sword. “Let’s do this.” Madara stayed put as the samurai charged towards him, slashing his sword in a large arc. The Uchiha lazily parred it and twisted the sword around so that the samurai was pushed back, before quickly attacking. The samurai blocked the best he could, but was quickly overpowered.

 

“I’d hoped that I would last longer,” the samurai spoke as the tip of Madara’s sword was at his throat. “Although I suspect your hits were reinforced by your chakra.”

 

Madara shrugged. “I don’t have time to play around with you. Tell me why you’re burning villages.”

 

The samurai hesitated, before sighing. “The Shogun has ambitions. He believes that if he becomes influential enough in this area, the strongest Hidden Village overseas will sign a treaty with him.”

 

“And he becomes influential, how? By burning villagers?”

  
“By burning opposition,” the samurai corrected. “Fear sows loyalty.”

 

“Fear sows nothing but more fear,” Madara scoffed. “Which Hidden Village was he talking about?”

 

“The strongest,” the samurai deadpanned. “I am not familiar with any of them.”

 

“He was probably referring to Konoha,” Madara mused. “The strongest, and the closest geographically.” Madara gave the samurai a cold smile. “Thank you for the help.”

 

The samurai nodded as Madara shoved the sword in his throat without hesitation, before turning back towards Kame and Mei’s hiding spot. Kame was still unconscious, but Mei was staring at him with glassy eyes.

 

“Is that a shinobi’s power?” she whispered when he got close enough to hear.

 

“Yes,” he replied, stopping when he saw that she flinched when he got too close. “I got carried away.”

 

“Your eye is red,” she said quietly, looking back at Kame and brushing her forehead with her palm. Madara deactivated his Sharingan after doing a quick scan of their surroundings. “What did you do to her?”

 

“Genjutsu,” he said shortly, “she wasn’t calming down, so I had to do it forcefully, or else you would have been discovered.”

 

Mei nodded. “Can you undo it?”

 

Madara shook his head. “Not until we make camp later on. Come on. Take Kame-san’s pack; I’ll carry her until we can stop.”

 

Mei hesitated, before looking at his face and grimacing. “Your face is really bloody.”

 

Madara shrugged. “It’s fine. None of it is mine, anyway, and I’ll wash it off when we make camp.”

 

The two then set off, with Madara carrying the unconscious Kame, and Mei actively trying to avoid looking at the massacre before her. They walked in silence for a few hours, with Madara only occasionally warning Mei to take care over loose stones, and by the time they found a good spot to camp in, the midday sun was already brightly shining. They stopped by a lake, deep within the forest, with mountains flanking them on either side.

 

“This must be Osoroshidesu Pass,” Madara spoke, finally, as he gently dropped Kame to the ground. “You can rest. We will camp here for a bit.”

 

Mei nodded wordlessly as she dropped her backpack and watched Madara do the same. He turned to look at her, and said, “Try and make a campfire. I will return shortly to light it.”

  
Mei nodded again as Madara walked off in the direction of the lake and removed his shirt, bending down to dunk his head underwater. He rinsed off his top and made quick work of cleansing his fingernails of the dried blood, before twisting the water out of his thick hair and using a band to tie it out of the way. Making his way back, he noticed that Mei had indeed managed to put together a decent campfire, and after Madara hung his shirt to dry on a tree branch, made the necessary handsigns and lit it.

 

“Can you wake up Kame-baasan now?” a small voice asked him, and Madara turned to face Mei, who was sitting next to the old woman. He nodded and dispelled his jutsu, watching Kame as she shifted and slowly opened her eyes. She gasped, as if for air, before wildly looking around and calming down when she spotted Mei.

 

“What happened?” she asked, panicked, and took in her surroundings. “We’re in a different place. Mei, are you alright?”

 

“Yeah,” the girl replied, helping Kame sit up. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

 

Kame’s eyes sought out Madara and she assessed his wet hair and lack of shirt. “What happened back there?”

 

“Another group of samurai,” Madara replied in a clipped tone. “You wouldn’t shut up, so I had to take action.”

  
Gearing herself up to argue, she took a look at Madara’s closed off expression and Mei’s unusual silence and decided not to bother. Instead, she asked, “Is everything okay?

 

Madara stiffened and didn’t answer, but Mei’s fearful glances told her enough. The girl had probably seen the shinobi in action and it scared her. Kame instinctively began petting the girl’s hair to calm her down, and said, “Mei-chan, what’s wrong?”

 

Madara turned away and stood up, stalking away deep into the forest, presumably to hunt. Silently, Kame thanked him for the distance, even though she knew it probably wasn’t done intentionally. She looked down at Mei, who now had tears in her eyes.

 

“He killed them,” she whispered tearfully. “He killed them all. And he was enjoying it.”

 

Kame sighed. “Is that what scared you? I know it must be shocking to see, Mei-chan, but such is the nature of the shinobi.”

 

“What if he decides to kill us too?” she asked fearfully.

 

“He won’t,” Kame replied, sure of herself. “He’s protecting us, Mei-chan, do not forget it. He’s bringing us somewhere safe.”

 

“Somewhere where there’s more shinobi, like him!” Mei cried, suddenly hugging Kame close. “What if they kill us there?”

 

“Trust in him, Mei-chan,” Kame insisted. “Think of how he looked after us, earlier. He certainly doesn’t have to do any of this, and yet he does. Do you think he would willfully put us in danger?”

 

A hint of hesitation reached Mei’s eyes and Kame knew that the girl was beginning to understand. “Madara-kun is a shinobi. It’s in his nature to react violently to enemies which threaten his precious ones. His life has been very different from ours.”

 

Shakily, Mei nodded and tightened her hold on Kame. “I miss nii-san,” she whispered thickly.

 

“I know you do, sweetheart,” Kame murmured into her hair. “Your brother, and the rest of the village will always be in our hearts, and for them we must try our best to survive. To carry on the legacy.”

 

Mei sniffed. “He told me the same thing, after he saved me.”

 

“Who? Madara-kun?”

 

Mei nodded. “He told me my brother would want me to live.”

 

“Well, he was right. And, you know what? He’s probably watching over you, right now, thinking of how silly you are being. He lives on in you,” Kame told her quietly. Mei said nothing to this, so Kame just kept holding her tight, until Madara came back, half an hour later. His hair had dried, sticking up wildly, and he was scowling.

 

“Kame-san,” he said, without much fanfare. “Do you happen to have another hair tie? This one snapped,” he asked, holding up the aforementioned tie. Kame chuckled.

 

“I’m afraid not, Madara-kun, my hair is too short to be tied back,” she said absently.

 

“I have one,” Mei told him in a small voice, extricating herself from Kame’s hold and dipping her hand into her pocket. “I don’t know if it will hold, but you can try,” she said, holding out the small elastic to Madara.

 

The shinobi hesitated but slowly approached the girl, and when she didn’t flinch away, he murmured his thanks and began pulling his messy hair together. As he was doing so, Kame stood up and walked over to where he had hung his shirt to dry, and said, “It’s almost fully dried, just give it maybe ten more minutes,” she told Madara, who nodded his thanks.

 

“I brought some more squirrels to eat,” he said, settling down by the slowly crackling fire and using his kunai to skin the small animals. “We should save some in case we can’t find anything else in the next few days.”

 

Kame nodded. “That would be wise, yes,” she said as she sat down next to Madara and began helping him with the food.

 

Mei was sitting down across from them, looking at Madara, before her eyes fell down and noticed a thick, vertical scar on his chest. Her gasp made both Kame and Madara look up with questioning eyes.

 

“Where did you get that scar?” she asked, curiosity getting the best of her. Madara frowned and looked down, stiffening when he spotted the scar running in between his pectorals, right in front of his heart.

 

“In battle,” he replied, turning around. “I’ve got another on my back.” And there it was; between his shoulder blades rested an identical scar. “It went in through my back and out through my front,” Madara said, shrugging, and keeping his eyes on the dead squirrel.

 

“Did it hit your heart?” Mei asked.

 

“Yes,” Madara replied, “I almost died. I did die.”

 

“This was from your battle with… Hashirama, was it?” Kame asked softly, looking at Madara’s profile.

 

The Uchiha nodded quietly and put the finished squirrel on the ground next to him, stretching his arm and grabbing the one Kame was slowly working on. “I’ll do it. It’ll be faster this way.”

 

“How come you’re alive, then?” Mei asked before she could think better of it. Suddenly Madara’s mismatched eyes were boring into hers.

 

“I did something that broke the rules of life and death,” Madara replied lowly, pointing to his blind eye, “I exchanged my vision for my life.”

 

“It seems like a good trade to me,” Mei replied. Madara smirked at her response, and nodded slowly.

 

“Yes. It was.”

 

“So, if you’re actually from this Konoha place overseas, how come you got to Kawasaki?” Mei asked, leaning forward.

 

Madara kept his eyes downward as he finished skinning the second squirrel, finding a twig and skewering it, before placing the meat above the fire.

 

“Everyone thought I was dead,” he replied, shrugging. “Initially, I wanted to rain vengeance upon them, but then I realized that there truly was no point. My life was a gift, so I decided to leave that place and create a new life elsewhere. I soon realized I had no idea how to live normally and so confined myself in that cabin in the mountains,” he said dryly, watching the squirrel cook.

 

“So how come you’re coming back with us, now?” Mei continued asking.

 

“I’m not,” Madara said simply. “I’m escorting you two to the port and then, once you board that ship, I’m leaving.”

  
  
“What?” Mei asked, scandalized. “You’re not coming with us? Why not?”

 

“I have many bad memories in that place,” Madara responded, turning the squirrel over. “And I am very recognizable. I would not be able to escape notice.”

 

Mei scowled. “That’s not fair – you said you were gonna make sure we’ll be safe, but you’re basically letting us go the rest of the way by ourselves!”

 

“The continent is much safer, especially now that Shinobi Villages have sprouted to ensure safety and control borders. If you take a carriage or a caravan to Konoha chances are you’ll get there just fine,” Madara replied, rolling his eyes. “There’s no need to be dramatic.”

 

“But who’s gonna teach me your crazy skills?” Mei demanded.

 

Madara’s eyebrows rose in surprise, and he asked, “You still want to become a shinobi, even after you got frightened by that display earlier?”

 

Mei’s cheeks reddened in embarrassment, and she said, “Well, you only did it to protect us. I want to be able to protect other people too!”

 

Madara toyed with telling her that he did it more because he enjoyed it, although protecting them was also part of the cause, so he decided to hold back on that tidbit of information so as to avoid scaring the girl again. “We still have a few days until we reach the port; and who knows how many more until we get you on a ship. I can teach you then.”

 

“But you said shinobi training takes years,” Mei moaned, stomping her feet childishly.

 

“So you’d better learn fast,” Madara replied mildly, pulling the squirrel off the fire and blowing on it to cool it off a bit, before ripping a few chunks and handing them to Kame and Mei.

 

“Aren’t you going to eat, Madara-kun?” Kame asked, nibbling on the offered meat.

 

Madara shook his head. “No. I’m not hungry.”

 

“Madara-kun,” Kame chided, “what did I tell you a few days ago? Your collarbones are jutting out. You may have a lot of muscle, but that doesn’t mean I can’t see that you haven’t been eating properly.”

 

Madara rolled his eyes, and said, “You think I wouldn’t know how to feed myself properly, with how you nag at me,” he murmured, biting into the squirrel anyway. “Happy?”

 

“Very,” Kame replied, satisfied. “If you keep insisting on isolating yourself, I won’t be there anymore to nag you into eating, so you best pack on the calories now, boy.”

 

Madara huffed but kept quiet, slowly eating the food. After they finished their meal, Madara quickly packed everything up and the three set off again, navigating the increasingly difficult landscape as they began walking upwards, through Osoroshidesu Pass. It took them a few hours, seeing how Kame was prone to getting tired quickly and how Mei wasn’t used to the landscape, and they had to stop for breaks along the way. Usually, Madara would stand perched on a rock, scanning the surrounding area cautiously, while the other two rested. Night was falling, now, and when Kame claimed she couldn’t walk any more, Madara ignored any protests and lifted her up as he easily walked behind Mei.

  
“We can’t afford any more stops,” Madara said, “until we reach the peak of the pass. We can make camp there and I’ll put you down.” Tiredly, Kame nodded and relaxed in the shinobi’s arms, while Mei bounded in front of them, sometimes resorting to using her hands on the ground to keep her balance.

 

The sun had completely set when they finally reached their destination, and Madara put Kame down on the mostly flat, but still rocky ground.

 

“Madara-sensei,” Mei said worriedly, “there aren’t any trees around. How are we gonna make the tents?”

 

“We’re not,” Madara replied, looking at the sky assessingly. “There are no clouds tonight, which might mean that it’ll be colder tomorrow, but for now, we should be fine sleeping under the stars. It won’t be comfortable,” Madara added dryly, kicking some loose gravel, “but it’ll do. Just fold the tarp we used for the tent under the blankets, and it should make the ground soft enough.”

 

“Aye aye, Madara-sensei,” Mei said, saluting jokingly. “Should I set up a campfire, too?”

 

Madara shook his head. “I’ll do it.”

 

“Where are you sleeping tonight?” Kame asked, placing a worried hand on his shoulder. “You didn’t sleep last night, and we’ve been moving all day. You need to get some rest.”

 

“Don’t worry about me,” Madara chuckled. “I had a few hours of sleep last night, it’s more than enough. You forget I’m a shinobi.”

 

“Shinobi are human, and humans need sleep,” Kame retorted, frowning.

 

“I can fight for twenty-four hours straight,” Madara said, “a little bit of lost sleep will hardly affect me.”

 

Kame threw her arms in the air. “Fine. Die of exhaustion, for all I care!”

 

“I’ll take that into consideration,” Madara replied dryly. “I need to go search for some wood. You know the drill. Stay here and don’t move.”

 

“Some of that Wood Release would have been really helpful right now, huh, Madara-sensei?” Mei said cheekily. Madara’s expression soured and he glared at Mei without much fire behind it.

 

“Get to work, brat,” he growled, jumping back from where they came from to retrieve firewood.

 

The rest of the night was calm, thankfully. Mei and Kame fell asleep quickly, and just as he had the night before, Madara put out the fire before perching himself on one of the rocks overlooking Osoroshidesu Pass, Sharingan active as he looked over the darkened landscape.

 

As he stood watch, his mind wandered to the events of the day and he felt something tighten in his stomach as he recalled the samurai’s last words.

 

For some reason, the information made him queasy. The Shogun wanted to seize power on this continent, but to what end? The samurai said it was in order to ally himself with a Hidden Village. What for, then? Unless the Shogun had greater ambitions. There were not many shinobi in these areas, so it was even more surprising that the samurai had managed to dispel his genjutsu, which required some degree of chakra control. So for the man to have known how to do so, then he must have been taught by someone from the shinobi continent. Someone who _wanted_ this Shogun to seize all the power available, and then ally himself with Konoha.

 

Madara’s brow furrowed. But for what? None of it made sense. Madara bit his lip, deep in thought, as he absentmindedly pulled out a kunai and began rubbing the thick pad of his thumb over the blade. Unless…

 

Unless this Shogun had means to ruin a Hidden Village. Impossible, though – samurai stood no chance against ordinary shinobi, and especially not against the likes of him and Hashirama. Or perhaps he didn’t even care about ruining the villages outright. Perhaps his role was indirect, but clearly the end purpose was for some kind of gain. Monetary, probably.

 

Madara groaned as he rubbed his forehead with his fingers, and put the kunai back in its pouch. A conspiracy, fantastic. Just what he needed.

 

Hashirama wasn’t even shrewd enough to understand that something was brewing, but maybe if he found some way to tip Tobirama off… Violently, Madara shook his head and scowled. Absolutely not. It would be too risky, and besides, he himself only had the vaguest idea that something was going on.

 

He’d need to do some digging to find out more information, but for that he’d have to leave Kame and Mei alone, and that was unacceptable. He’d make sure they would get to the Fire Country safe and sound and then he’d go on minding his own business. As far as anyone was concerned, Uchiha Madara was dead, and it would stay that way. He’d find some other way to keep busy. Maybe he’d take up carpentry.

 

As he nodded to himself and broke himself out of his musings, Madara kept scanning the horizon for threats as he listened to Kame’s low snores. The tightened ball of anxiety never unraveled, though, and he knew he was done for. His interest had been piqued and Madara groaned suddenly as he realized he wouldn’t be able to let it go.

 

It was time for a trip south. A gust of wind flew over his body and he shivered, looking back the way they had come from and frowning. Thick clouds were rolling in, just barely visible over the horizon. Winter was coming. He’d have to be quick.

 

With that thought, he began doing what he was good at – planning.

 

When morning came, Madara woke the two up and then spent three hours on the road, until he’d found a sufficiently hidden cave in which he could safely leave Kame and Mei in. Briefly explaining that there was something he had to do, he made a fire for them and left all of their rations behind, instructing them not to move and weaving a genjutsu with his Sharingan around the entrance of the cave. They were expecting him to be gone for about five hours. Plenty of time to get to the capital and gather information.

 

Madara wasted no time in using chakra to climb the jagged edges of the mountain, quickly making his way to the top and scanning the area. South. He had to go south. Without much fanfare, he began dropping on the other side of the mountain, half sliding down half jumping, and fell into a full sprint, using chakra to augment his muscles. The landscape went by quickly, and he passed a few villages on his way. The settlements seemed to be getting wealthier and wealthier the closer he was getting to the capital, a sign that he was on the right track.

 

Within an hour and a half, he had managed to cross most of the distance and he slowed down as the walls of the city came in sight. It was a sight to behold, Madara had to admit. The entrance gates were wide open, a thick column of merchants coming in and out of the city, coming from the direction of the port. They seemed to be carrying a variety of different wares, from expensive looking jewelry to shiny samurai swords. It was midday, so Madara didn’t have any shadows with which to blend in with, so instead he used a quick Henge and joined the crowd of merchants, and leisurely strolled into the village.

 

The inside was more impressive than the outside. A small, probably manmade, stream was running from the gates straight to the imposing palace in the middle of the city, and there were wide boulevards on each side of it. They bisected at every block, and met in the middle of the stream via thin bridges, which were packed with people of seemingly every nationality Madara could think of.

 

He could, thankfully, detect no shinobi chakra signatures, so at least Madara knew he was safe in that regard. Seamlessly switching his illusion to make him look like a tanned woman, he parted from the crowd of merchants and followed the stream up to the center of the city. It was taller than he’d previously thought, and it was probable that from the window at the highest point the view encompassed not only the whole city, but probably a significant amount of the outer grounds as well.

 

Slowly walking around the building was a trek, as it was very wide at the base. Mindful of the watchful eyes of the samurai around the building, she followed a group of what seemed like tourists, but quickly split from it once he realized that they were heading back into the rest of the city. Frowning, he assessed the building, and daintily skipped up to one of the guards.

  
“Excuse me, samurai-sama, are there any tours arranged to go into this building? It seems like such a marvel of architecture,” Madara’s female voice came out dreamy, as he manipulated his expression into one of wonder.

 

“No tours,” the samurai replied succinctly, not even looking down at Madara’s short form.

 

“Oh,” fake enlightenment came over Madara’s face, “is this the Shogun’s residence? My apologies, samurai-sama, I didn’t know.”

 

The samurai nodded shortly but his posture did not relax, and simply continued to gaze out into the crowd, as if looking for troublemakers. Taking his leave, Madara quickly ducked back into the city and found a small alleyway between two red clay houses. Dispelling his Henge, he discarded his initial plan, which was to simply walk into the building and then slip away, undetected. More advanced tactics were needed, apparently, he thought, rolling his eyes, as his Sharingan spun. Suddenly, he became invisible to everyone but himself, by using a clever genjutsu Izuna was particularly fond of using whenever he wanted to spy on their female clansmen. Ignoring the pang in his chest at the thought of his brother, Madara took to the rooftops and then made a long jump onto the palace’s outer wall, grasping onto it by using his chakra. Quickly, he slithered up the wall and then stopped once he reached the tallest window, and the one least likely to be guarded from intruders.

 

It looked like a lavish bedroom. Probably the Shogun’s, if Madara were to guess. There was a large bed covered in silky red sheets, and an entire wall covered by tall bookshelves, filled with tomes of any kind. Madara took a quick second to look behind him, and stood in awe at the sights.

 

The city lived beneath him, chimneys pumping out smoke and hordes of people just multicolored dots moving in some sort of chaotic order. He felt entranced as his fingers grasped the edges of the window. With this kind of sight, a man could be driven to believe his superiority over anyone else easily. Especially when other human beings were nothing but ants under their fingers. Madara snorted suddenly. Good thing that Hashirama didn’t have that kind of view from the Hokage’s office, or else he’d have gone as mad as Madara, and he wasn’t sure that Konoha would have survived _Hashirama_ , of all people, going mad.

 

Having broken out of his trance, Madara began shuffling through the room, keeping an ear out for any approaching footsteps. He rifled through drawers, trying to find any documents containing useful and incriminating information, but, finding nothing, instead helped himself to a very expensive looking set of earrings. Perhaps he’d give them to Mei.

 

Carefully exiting the bedroom, Madara kept his chakra extended, searching for any presences that might discover him. It shouldn’t be a problem, not with his genjutsu still firmly in place, but caution was always advisable, especially in foreign territory. He descended a few flights of stairs, until he reached a moderately guarded hallway. Carefully, he moved between the armed samurai, ensuring he didn’t move too quickly, in case some air disturbed by his movement tipped them off, and slipped into what looked like an office.

 

Madara smirked. _Bingo._ The desk was overflowing with stacks of paper, and the view from the window situated behind the desk was just as impressive as it had been from the top floor. Madara quietly began rifling through the stacks, taking his time as he read through the administrative forms. Frustrated, he scowled at the sheer normality of it all, before he tensed upon hearing the approach of two pairs of footsteps.

 

His body tensed in preparation of the jump from the window, but he hesitated and debated the merits of staying in the office and listening in. Mind made up, he swiftly moved in a corner closest to the window, made himself as small as possible, even though, logically, he knew he wouldn’t be seen, and checked that his genjutsu was stable.

 

Two men entered the office, and the latter closed the door behind them with a firm thud. Madara’s heart thudded in his chest as he fully took in the chakra readings he’d been too distracted to look into earlier. One of the men was a shinobi. Chakra was brimming, overflowing from the man, who was dressed in fine traditional gear. Narrowing his eyes, Madara tried identifying the clothes’ country of origin, without luck – he’d never been too interested in other cultures.

 

The other man walked towards the desk and passed Madara as he did so. Taking a seat, he interlocked his fingers as he looked to his guest and raised his eyebrows.

 

“Shogun Kamakura-sama,” the shinobi murmured, inclining his head. “It has been some time since we last spoke.”

 

“Yes,” the Shogun – Kamakura – replied, leaning back in his chair, “it’s been too long, Hishiteru-kun. Would you like a drink?”

 

“No, thank you,” Hishiteru said, taking a seat in the chair on the other side of the desk. “I would, however, like to speak business plainly, Kamakura-sama.”

 

The Shogun frowned, and nodded. “Yes. I’ve done as your side has asked – the Eastern villages are now nothing but rubble, which means the Eastern Shogunate will become weaker, in time. Therefore, I now hold the majority of the power in this side of the world.”

 

“Good, good,” Hishiteru replied, smiling slightly. “That is good news, indeed. And the manpower?”

 

“Rising,” Kamakura grunted, rifling through the drawers in his desk and pulling out a stack of paper. “Training. The teacher you left behind is ruthless, but I suppose that’s to be expected of a shinobi village,” he said, handing the other man the stack.

 

Hishiteru fell silent for a few minutes as he thumbed through the papers and read through them. Smiling, he said, “That’s not too bad. Not too bad at all. I do wonder how your men have taken to the shinobi arts so easily, though. They take us years to master.”

 

“The teacher said that he was focusing on the art of taijutsu, as well as some very rudimentary ninjutsu and genjutsu. Considering my men are already well versed in the use of martial arts, learning a few extra katas and coupling them with some chakra is child’s play.”

 

“I suppose there’s no need for lasting shinobi,” Hishiteru mock-sighed.

 

Kamakura nodded. “If all you want to do is throw bodies at your enemy, then you will have that, with my men. Perhaps some of them will even come back alive.”

 

Hishiteru snorted. “Unlikely. Raikage-sama would definitely put them on the front lines, so as to avoid the unnecessary injury of better soldiers.”

 

As Kamakura shrugged in reply, Madara stiffened in his corner, as his mind whirred furiously. What in the world did the Raikage had to do with this? Madara pursed his lips as he activated his Sharingan, intent on recording the entire conversation.

 

“Yes, I have heard strange things from the shinobi continent, I must admit. What is this I hear of a Kage _giving away_ the infamous tailed beasts?” Kamakura asked, narrowing his eyes. Madara tensed, and he felt something icy uncurl in his stomach.

 

“Ah, yes,” Hishiteru replied, shaking his head disapprovingly. “The esteemed Hokage-sama. The God of Shinobi, they call him. Nothing but a fool, the way I see it,” he said, rolling his eyes. “A shinobi by the name of Uchiha Madara brought down the Nine-Tailed Fox onto the village, but the Hokage managed to seal it away into his wife, and is now, foolishly, capturing the other tailed beasts and giving _those_ away, too.”

 

Madara, frozen in the corner, felt his mouth fall open. _Mito_ was now jailer of the Kyuubi? Grudgingly, he had to admit, it made sense. The Uzumaki were not only renowned for their sealing techniques, but also their impressive chakra reserves. A match made in heaven, if one were to ask Madara. But giving away the bijuu? Madara’s lip curled. Kami, he knew Hashirama was an idiot, but this was more than even he’d anticipated.

 

“That seems… idiotic,” Kamakura replied idly.

 

Hishiteru sniffed. “Raikage-sama fears that the Hokage will never give one to Kumogakure. He’s only given one to Sunagakure, so far, but everyone else is getting restless. Which is why we’re going to capitulate on this situation,” he said with a dark tone, smirking. “I’ve no doubt the fool Hokage will give Kumogakure a bijuu. He’s too honorable to do otherwise. When he finally does, Raikage-sama will launch the attack and seize control of not only Konohagakure and the Fire Country, but the whole shinobi continent!”

 

“And what is your role in all of this?” the Shogun asked, frowning.

 

Hishiteru grinned. “Me? I’ll be the one taking on the Uchiha,” he boasted, and Madara felt frozen. “Their eye techniques don’t work on me, for some reason. And that is why…” Hishiteru blinked, and suddenly launched a kunai at the wall. “…That is why I know you’re there, little Uchiha.”

 

Only Madara’s quick reflexes saved him from that unexpected kunai toss, and, snarling, he dispelled his genjutsu, Sharingan whirling. “You little worm. I will destroy you and your damned village for your actions.”

 

Hishiteru stood up and ignored the shell-shocked Shogun now standing between the two shinobi. “What is a good little Uchiha like you doing so far away from home, eh? Perhaps you’d like never to return?”

 

“That was my initial plan,” Madara snarled in return, summoning his gunbai, “but I’m afraid overhearing your little conversation has made me change my mind.” A dark smirk crossed his lips, and he asked, “I’m sure you’ve heard of me, after all, you mentioned my name just earlier.” With a cheeky bow, he introduced himself. “My name is Uchiha Madara,” he said, his sole red eye promising pain, “and I will destroy you.”

 

For the first time in that encounter, Hishiteru seemed afraid, although he hesitated. “Uchiha Madara is dead,” he hissed back, unsheathing two swords and holding them at the ready. “Senju Hashirama killed him himself.”

 

“Did he now?” Madara grinned toothily. “Perhaps someone should’ve told me that, although I’ve always been told I tend to defy expectations.”

 

Hishiteru hissed and launched an attack. “Kamakura-sama! Call for backup, now! I won’t be able to defeat him alone!”

 

Madara snarled as the Shogun quickly escaped, but focused on the Kumo nin before him. “Have you ever heard what I did to those Kiri nin? They weren’t useful unless they were loyal to Konoha. Do you know what’s going to happen with you?”

 

Hishiteru didn’t reply as he spun around and brought the swords down, which Madara blocked effortlessly with his gunbai. “I’m going to gut you,” Madara said honestly, twisting out of the way of the next strike, just out of Hishiteru’s reach. “And then I’m going to cut all of your limbs and send them in a nice package back to your Kage. And then,” a mad grin crossed Madara’s face as the temperature dropped perceptibly, “I’m going to go to your Kage and I’m going to strip _him_ limb for limb, and then send the remains to his family.”  
  
“You’re mad,” Hishiteru panted, dodging Madara’s gunbai. “Konoha will fall, and Kumo will reign supreme over all the Elemental Countries!”

 

“Please don’t tell me you’re actually trying to start a world war,” Madara snorted, catching a kunai out of the air and sending it back towards Hishiteru. The Uchiha analyzed the other nin’s face carefully, before his expression blanched. “You are. You’re planning a world war.”

 

“It’ll still happen if you kill me or not,” Hishiteru goaded, sweat dripping into his eyes.

 

“I’m sure it will,” Madara replied mildly, stopping his attacks suddenly. “You said you were impervious to the Sharingan. Let’s test that theory,” he said, his eye suddenly mutating into the Mangekyo. He caught Hishiteru’s wide gaze with his own and pulled him into a Tsukuyomi.

 

“What is this?” Hishiteru gasped, evaluating his surroundings in a panic.

 

“This is the Mangekyo Sharingan,” came Madara’s voice from nowhere. “So, it seems you’re not as immune to the Sharingan as you’d like to think. Oh well.” A sword lodged itself into Hishiteru’s side and the shinobi fell to his knees in pain. Idly, Madara controlled the genjutsu as he watched Hishiteru’s reactions in real time, when the door to the office was kicked open and what looked like an army of samurai jumped him, at once. Forced to disengage from the genjutsu, Madara scowled and began cutting through the samurai, keeping an eye on the downed shinobi by the desk. One by one, Madara cut through the samurai in a similar way to what he’d done the day previous.

 

Slowly, Hishiteru managed to stand up on shaky knees, and without a backwards glance vaulted over the desk and out of the window. Madara swore as he noticed the shinobi making a run for it, and decided to give chase. Grabbing a stack of exploding tags from the pouch on his thigh, Madara quickly stuck them around the room and on the samurais’ armor, and then jumped out of the window himself. As he was falling, he made a single handsign and the tags hissed immediately. Just as he landed safely on the ground, the uppermost floors of the castle exploded, and for a brief second Madara mourned the loss of such impressive architecture. The moment passed, though, when he snapped back to reality and realized that the Kumogakure shinobi was quickly making his escape, heading west, to the port. Madara set off after him, determined not to let the man make it back to the shinobi continent.

 

The large clock in the middle of the city rang loudly, and Madara paused in his pursuit to look up at the time. His lips curled as he realized he didn’t have much time. He’d told Mei and Kame he’d be back within five hours. It would take him an hour and a half to get back to the cave, and if he chased after the shinobi… the two would surely panic and try to leave the safety of their shelter. Madara groaned as he sealed off his gunbai and felt the chakra signature of Hishiteru vanish completely. Looking back at the smoking remains of the palace and the crowd gathering in front of it, Madara smirked, glad to know that at least the excursion was not for nothing. He looked up at the sun and squinted. Now, if only he could get a message to Hashirama in time…

 

_-end part two-_


	4. Kosoku

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madara gets angry, cuts his air, and lets Hashirama know he's alive. Kosoku, his fastest summon, is very unimpressed.

Madara was surprisingly tight-lipped once he’d reached the cave and assured Mei and Kame it was alright to come out. Mei had no concerns about just bounding out of the cave and stretching out in the light of the setting sun. Kame was more reserved, first eyeing Madara’s focused demeanor before smiling gently and asking if his business went alright. Madara just nodded and told them that they’d be moving a bit more quickly in the next few days so they could get to the port. Feeling the cold air nip at her exposed hands, Kame had to agree.

 

Madara’s unusual silence was not overlooked even by Mei. The blonde girl kept eyeing him dubiously, although clearly understood that the man wanted to be left alone to his own thoughts. And it was obvious that Madara cared not whether the two could keep up with him or not – the pace he set was punishing, and although Mei made up for her clumsiness with an incredible amount of energy, as she leapt and skipped over the loose rocks which made the path down from Osoroshidesu Pass, Kame truly felt her age for the first time in her life.

 

The Uchiha, however, didn’t seem that bothered by it. After the first few times when they had to stop and wait for Kame to slowly catch up to them, Madara just gave her a look and she sighed as he changed his backpack around so that he carried it on his front, and picked Kame up on his back. Granted, their pace was a bit faster this way, but Kame felt like a misbehaving toddler nonetheless.

 

“Madara-sensei,” Mei said, eyes droopy from fatigue, “I’m really tired. Can we stop?”

 

“Just a bit more,” Madara urged absently, eyeing the disappearing rays of sun.

 

“You said that an hour ago,” Mei huffed, and perched herself on a rock. “I can’t walk anymore.”

 

“I’ll carry you,” Madara replied, hands already leaving Kame’s thighs and reaching for the girl. Kame frowned and took the opportunity to slide down from Madara’s back, and when the man’s hands instinctively reached back to secure her, she slapped them away.

 

“Madara-kun, this is ridiculous,” Kame said, placing her hands on her hips. “We’re all tired, and by that I mean you, as well.” She pointed to the dark bags under his eyes, although the eyes themselves still looked alert and awake as always. Madara scowled.

 

“We have to make good time,” he snapped, but dropped the backpack on his front nonetheless. “If we stop now, it means that tomorrow we’ll only be stopping once, for lunch.”

 

Mei brightened up. “Yeah! My feet are sore, Madara-sensei. Should I set up a tent?”

 

Eyeing her guiltily, he sighed. “No. I’ll do it. Just keep your feet up higher than your heart – lie back if you can; it’ll help with the pain.”

 

“Alright,” she replied as she lied flat on the ground, feet propped up on a rock. Kame sighed and went to remove their supplies from Madara’s backpack, but stopped when a scarred hand stopped her own. “I’ll do it,” Madara repeated, and Kame nodded as she went to sit down next to the young girl.

 

Wordlessly, Madara made camp and shared some rations, and after dinner was done and digesting, Mei fell asleep instantly. Kame hesitated and looked at Madara’s thoughtful face, which was illuminated by the bright orange of the flames which lit up their campsite.

 

“You’ve been oddly quiet today, Madara-kun,” Kame remarked. Madara jumped at the unexpected sound of her voice and raised his eyes to look at her.

 

“I thought you were going to sleep,” he spoke in low tones, careful not to wake Mei up.

 

“I will, in just a bit,” she shrugged as she made herself more comfortable. “So, what happened? You’re gone for five hours and suddenly you come back unnaturally quiet. You’re quite talkative usually.”

 

“Not that talkative,” Madara scoffed, kicking a rock around.

 

“No,” she agreed, “but you don’t outright ignore Mei-chan the way you’ve done today.”

 

Madara frowned. “I have a lot to think about.”

 

“Ryo for your thoughts?” Kame asked lightly. Madara was quiet for a few moments before he frowned and sighed heavily.

 

“I’ve uncovered something of a conspiracy,” Madara replied, grimacing, “it involves Konoha. And most other Elemental Countries.”

 

“Sounds like a lot,” Kame said, placing a careful hand on Madara’s shoulder.

 

“They’re planning a goddamn world war,” Madara hissed suddenly, standing up abruptly and pacing around. Kame squeaked in surprise and then looked offended at the undignified noise she had made, not that the Uchiha was paying much attention. “Just as the land finds peace, some power-hungry _moron_ decides to ruin it all. I _told_ Hashirama that it’s human nature to do so, but now they’re going to be completely unprepared for it because that absolute _moron Hokage_ wants to be honorable and give away weapons of mass destruction to other villages, as a sign of _good faith_! And his brother! His brother is supposed to be the halfway intelligent one, how is he letting him do this?!” Madara began raging, suddenly. Kame was a bit unprepared for the sudden outpouring but listened in rapt attention.

 

“What am I going to do?” Madara asked her suddenly. “If I don’t tell them, war is going to break out on a scale that we’ve never seen before, especially when Tailed Beasts are involved,” he spoke, more to himself than to Kame. “But if I do tell them, there’s no guarantee that war won’t break out, and in that case they’ll know about me being alive, and they will not hesitate to hunt me down.”

 

Faced with such sincerity from the man who she had unwittingly begun associating with safety, she realized that he needed pointing in the right direction. Taking a deep breath, she steadied him with one hand as the other swept away the wild strands of hair which were stubbornly hanging low over his blind eye. Madara suddenly froze and eyed her, uncomfortable with the close contact.

 

“You should cut this,” Kame spoke, before removing the hand on his hair but keeping the one on his shoulder. “I am in no position to become an advisor to such problems,” she said honestly, “I have never and never will be a shinobi. I have never met these leaders, or any of the people you speak of. But I do know that you are a very intelligent man, despite how you might joke around with Mei. So the question is: do you place your life above hundreds, possibly thousands of others?”

 

“Yes,” Madara replied immediately, before scowling. “I mean –“

 

Kame laughed gently. “Of course, as an intelligent man, you obviously have a fairly strong sense of self preservation. But still, you care. You care for us, even though we put you in the uncomfortable situation of travelling this distance in days rather than the hours you are used to. We put you in the situation of finding that burned village, and it was because of us that you investigated further and unraveled a conspiracy.”

 

Madara shook his head. “Ensuring you live is different – my life is not in danger,” he said dryly. “I am not a good man, Kame-san – above all, I am selfish.”

 

“And yet, you care,” she insisted. “There are hundreds of women like me, and hundreds of children like Mei, and even hundreds of men like you, Madara-kun, on that continent, which are about to get slaughtered. Will you allow that? Or will you put their life before yours?”

 

Madara did not respond, so Kame sighed forcefully and continued. “Think of it this way. If you do not warn your friend, people will definitely die. If you warn your friend, perhaps some of that bloodshed can be avoided, even though you would be hunted. But it’s nothing a man of your skills couldn’t handle, right?”

 

Another moment of silence, before Madara grumbled, “He’s not my friend, he’s a pain in my ass.”

 

“Lover, then,” Kame retorted cheerfully. Madara reddened and sputtered.

 

“Hashirama Senju is most definitely not my lover,” he said, sounding outraged. “He put a sword through me!”

 

“And you tried to kill him,” Kame replied. “Sounds to me like you’re even.”

 

Madara scowled and waved his hand in the general direction of the tent. “Go sleep, woman. I’ve had enough of your bugging.”

 

Kame smiled as she turned away. “Think on what I said, Madara-kun. At the end of the day, it’s your decision. I know you will do the right thing – I have faith in you.”

 

Madara snorted, sitting back down before the fire, and said, “I’m not cutting my hair, either.”

 

Kame just kept smiling as she settled next to the softly snoring Mei. Her words kept echoing in Madara’s head. _I have faith in you_. When was the last time someone had told him that? Not since his mother, Madara thought suddenly, as he was taken back to a time when everything seemed so much simpler. Izuna was five, Madara was eight, and their youngest brother had just died. Madara’s mother was crying softly, and his father had stormed out at the sight of his dead son, and Izuna and the little twins were too young. It wasn’t a Senju who killed his littlest brother, but a disease which took hold of the boy’s body and left him rotting from the inside out.

 

Madara remembered putting his hand on his mother’s shoulder as she suddenly embraced him, and she asked him to protect his other brothers. Only eight at the time, Madara hugged her back tightly and promised. “I have faith in you,” she told him, but look at how well that turned out. All of his brothers dead and Madara himself all but exiled from the clan. Bitterly, he looked into the crackling wood of the fire as one of his hands played with a strand of hair. Idly, he thought that perhaps Kame was right, and he should cut his hair. It would make caring for it easier, that was for sure, he thought as he eyed the slightly greasy strand.

 

Suddenly angry – whether it was with himself or his hair or the world at large – Madara stood up and resumed his pacing as his fingers toyed with a kunai, and before he could even think of what he was doing, he grabbed his hair from the base of his neck and furiously cut through it, strand by strand. His long mane fell to the ground, and Madara’s hands dropped, as did the kunai. His eyes closed as he fell to his knees, uncaring of whether the sharp rocks tore up his trousers or not.

 

 _I have faith in you_.

 

Suddenly opening his eyes, Madara remembered a critical detail. He’d let that Kumo-nin get away. By now, he’d probably reached the port, if not already boarded a ship back to his country. Within days, the knowledge of the Uchiha’s continued survival would probably reach even Konoha. Madara groaned.

 

Well. Now he didn’t have an excuse, did he?

 

Resigned, he unfurled a blank scroll and began writing, including all the details he thankfully remembered thanks to the Sharingan. Once he was done, he resisted the temptation of adding a signature and summoned his fastest falcon.

 

Kosoku appeared before him, eyeing Madara with sharp, intelligent green eyes. “Madara-sama. It has been a while.”

 

“Kosoku,” Madara nodded in return. “You don’t seem too surprised to see me alive.”

 

“I’m not,” Kosoku grunted, ruffling his feathers. “We’ve heard word from the other summons – especially those ridiculous tigers – that you passed away. We, however, knew better – we were still bound to you. Odd, isn’t it? How a dead man can still summon us. Curious.”

 

“Yes,” Madara grinned, baring his teeth. “Very strange indeed. I assume you’re still the fastest?”

 

Proudly, the falcon straightened its head. “Yes. My son will soon overtake me, though, so expect to see him in my stead, some time. What do you need me for, Madara-sama?”

 

Tying up the scroll with his old, snapped hair tie, he handed it to Kosoku, who grasped it in his talons.

 

“Deliver this to Hashirama,” Madara said. “You know the one.”

 

“Yes,” Kosoku grumbled. “The one with the stupid face, who kept trying to feed me bread. I remember. His brother has the contract with the idiot tigers.”

 

Madara snickered. “That’s the one.”

 

“Are you certain this is wise, Madara-sama?” Kosoku asked seriously. “He will likely recognize me, and surmise you are the sender.”

 

After a brief moment of hesitation, Madara nodded. “Yes. Even if I do not, he will find out from other sources. I would rather it be this way.”

 

Inclining its head, Kosoku nodded. “Very well. It should reach him within two days.”

 

“Thank you, Kosoku. Send my regards to Ridahayabusa-sama for me.”

 

“I shall. Farewell, Madara-sama, and may we see each other again soon.” With those words, Kosoku took off and into the clouds. There was no turning back now – the message was sent, and soon Hashirama would know that his old friend was still alive.

 

Madara grimaced. He was not alright with this. But the wheel was in motion, and Madara could do little to stop it.

 

- _hashirama-_

 

“The Kage Summit is in a month,” Tobirama spoke lowly, picking up some folders from his brother’s desk. “When will you sell the other bijuu?”

 

“When I find them,” Hashirama replied, groaning, as he leaned back in his chair. “It’s not easy to find these little bastards, you know!”

 

“You’re the one who came up with the idea to give them away in the first place,” Tobirama reminded him idly.

 

“And you’re the one who convinced me to monetize it,” Hashirama retorted. “I’m trying my best.”

 

“You’ve only given one to Sunagakure, so far,” Tobirama told him. “The others must think you and Suna are allying yourselves against them.”

 

Hashirama groaned and slammed his head on the desk. Unimpressed, Tobirama grasped his brother’s hair and pulled him upright. “Don’t be ridiculous. Act like a Hokage.”

 

“I am the first Hokage,” Hashirama said, “therefore a Hokage is me.”

 

“Your logic is infallible,” Tobirama deadpanned, putting the aforementioned folders away neatly. “As always.”

 

Hashirama sighed. “How many more of these do I have to sign?” he asked, brandishing his brush.

 

Slamming a thick stack of documents on the desk, Tobirama drew great enjoyment from Hashirama’s flinch. “All of these. Get signing, Hokage-sama.”

 

Hashirama groaned and went to slam his head against the desk once more, but he was stopped by the sound of tapping at the window behind his desk. Turning around, he spotted a falcon with sharp green eyes watching him from the other side, beak pecking at the window and holding a scroll in his left talon.

 

Quickly, Hashirama opened the window, allowing the summon to fly into the room before settling on the back of the chair opposite Hashirama, and dropping the scroll on his desk.

 

“Thanks,” Hashirama muttered, grabbing the scroll and making a move to open it, before freezing in his motions and instead reaching into a drawer. “Have some bread!”

 

The falcon did not look even slightly impressed at the breadcrumbs that were being tossed at him, as was evidenced by the ruffling of his feathers.

 

“Still as moronic as always, then,” the bird grumbled, dodging the incoming crumbs deftly. Hashirama froze at the familiar, droning voice and then looked at the falcon squarely.

 

“Where do I know you from?” he asked, making no move to touch the delivered scroll.

 

The falcon harrumphed. “This is not the first time you’ve thrown bread at me, idiot man-child. I assume it will not be the last, either, not since I have confirmed my master is amongst the living still.”

 

Tobirama, who had fallen silent at the arrival of the summon, then asked, “Your master?”

 

The falcon rolled his eyes but otherwise ignored the younger Senju. Mildly annoyed, Tobirama repeated his question.

 

“I will not answer until this one reads the message. As for you, white-skin, you should learn to keep your ridiculous tigers in check. They annoy me,” the falcon retorted, turning back to Hashirama and eyeing him. “Well? Read; I do not have all day.”

 

Stunned, Hashirama managed to clear his throat. “Does your, uh, master require a response?”

 

“No,” the falcon replied shortly, “but I would like to know that my mission is successful. Read.”

 

Slightly flustered by the summon’s orders – he was being ordered around by a _bird_ – Hashirama unfurled the scroll and began reading. When Tobirama moved to read behind his brother’s shoulder, the bird intercepted, and said, “For the man-child’s eyes _only_ , white-skin.”

 

As Hashirama read the contents, his face got significantly paler, until his skin resembled his younger brother’s shade. Quickly slamming the scroll on the desk, he narrowed his eyes at the unaffected falcon.

 

“I recognize this writing. I recognize you. I recognize – “

 

“Do you remember throwing bread at me, man-child?” Kosoku demanded tartly. “Apologize.”

 

“Your master is dead!”

 

“Apologize,” the bird continued, still not outwardly responding to anything Hashirama was saying. “I will not have bread thrown at me.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Hashirama said stiffly, now rising from his seat. “Now, your master is long dead. Has been so for five years. I saw it. I did it with my own hand.”

 

“Clearly your aim was shaky,” Kosoku retorted idly. “My master is well. His chakra tastes different.”

 

“My aim was not shaky!” Hashirama shouted suddenly. “Do not patronize me, bird, I killed him with my own sword! I saw the life leave his eyes, and – what do you mean, _tastes different_?”

 

Unruffled, Kosoku replied. “Less angry. Different.”

 

“Hashirama,” Tobirama intervened, looking alarmed. “Hashirama, what are you talking about?”

 

But Hashirama wasn’t listening to his brother, his disbelieving eyes stuck to the bird. “Less… angry?”

 

“Yes,” the falcon nodded. “His hair is shorter. I don’t like it. I saw strands of hair on the ground – perhaps a bat got stuck in it. It seemed like it was cut on the spot.”

 

“His hair is…” suddenly Hashirama began snorting, and then laughing. Kosoku looked on, completely unimpressed.

 

“My mission is done,” he informed them tartly as he eyed the scroll significantly. “I know not what Madara-sama wrote, but it must have been important enough to risk inform you of his continued existence. Do not treat his information lightly.” With those words of warning, the falcon flew out of the room, before disappearing out of view completely.

 

Tobirama approached his brother who had sobered up from his laughing fit, and was staring dully at the scroll in his hands. “Brother, what was that about?”

 

With large, glassy brown eyes, Hashirama whispered, “Madara’s alive.”

 

- _madara-_

 

Mei was laughing, and Madara scowled. “I fail to see what is so amusing,” he snarked, crossing his arms. She just pointed to his head and kept laughing. Madara’s face darkened even more, and Kame cleared her throat.

 

“It looks good, Madara-kun,” Kame said warmly, “if a bit jagged in the back.”

 

Self-consciously, Madara patted the uneven strands at the base of his neck. “I can’t quite see the back very well.”

 

Rifling through the backpack filled with medical supplies, Kame withdrew a pair of scissors and approached Madara. “Allow me?”

 

Hesitantly, the man nodded as he turned around and fell to his knees so Kame could easily reach the nape of his neck. With soft and precise cuts, Kame used the scissors to clean up his hairline, before retreating and eyeing it critically. “I’m no hairdresser, but it’s a bit better now.”

 

Murmuring his thanks, Madara stood up as he began packing up their camp. “You look a lot younger, Madara-sensei,” Mei said, looking up at him. “Like, _a lot_ younger.”

 

“This is what my hair looked like when I was your age,” Madara replied. “I’m not used to having my right eye uncovered.”

 

“You look scary,” Mei comforted him. “People will think you’re super badass when they see your blind eye.”

 

Madara snorted as he finished packing, and hauled the heaviest of the packs on his back as he gave the lighter one to Mei. The girl accepted it without complaint, and asked, “So why did you cut it?”

 

Madara mumbled a response, and repeated when Mei stated that she didn’t hear him. “I got angry,” he confessed, turning a slight shade of pink.

 

“And you took it out on your hair?” Mei asked incredulously, even as Kame giggled in the background. Madara shrugged. “It was getting too long and it pissed me off.”

 

“Sure,” Mei replied dubiously. “Hey, Madara-sensei! Now that you’re talkative again, can you teach me some more cool ninja stuff?”  


“Alright,” the Uchiha sighed. “I want you to find your chakra center and focus on it. The road shouldn’t be too difficult, especially now that we’ve made it out of the mountains, so you can focus on that.”

 

“Okay!” Mei chirped, narrowing her eyes and frowning. “How do I do that?”

 

Madara chuckled. “Focus on the beating of your heart, and then try to feel something like cool water rushing alongside it, in time with the beats. That’s your chakra core.”

 

Mei nodded as she shut her eyes, now walking blindly along the thankfully fairly even path. Madara snorted at the young girl and made sure to keep an eye on her, just to catch her in case she fell.

 

The three walked in silence, only interrupted once after Mei had excitedly informed her sensei that she had found her core. Madara gave her further instructions and when she fell silent again, Madara began looking at the skies, focusing especially on the clouds gathering behind them.

 

“It’s getting colder,” he said suddenly. “Winter has come early this year. Soon enough we’ll have to find shelter indoors.”

 

“Is the port far away?” Kame asked curiously.

 

“We’ve only been travelling for three days, and half of yesterday was wasted by me gallivanting around,” Madara replied darkly. “We’ve got one more week to go before we reach the port; perhaps sooner, if we move faster.” Glancing at Kame, he said, “I know you don’t like it, but when you get tired and begin to slow us down, I’ll have to carry you again.”

 

Kame scowled, a strange expression on her usually serene face, and said, “If you must, but just make sure not to tire Mei-chan out. She’s not used to walking so much.”

 

Unimpressed, Madara shrugged. “If she wants to be a shinobi, she’ll get used to it,” he said, looking at the intensely focused look on the girl’s face. “I admit; I’m surprised she’s got what it takes. Finding your chakra core takes time, but she managed to do it in an hour regardless.”  


“She’s a smart girl,” Kame replied proudly.

 

“Intelligence has nothing to do with this,” Madara replied. “It took me a few days to find my chakra core, and I wouldn’t say I’m not particularly clever. I’m assuming it has to do with the fact that she has less chakra, and therefore more control. I wonder how well she’d do with tree climbing.”

 

“What does climbing trees have to do with this?” Kame asked.

 

Madara snorted. “Not how you’d think, Kame-san. Have you ever seen someone climb without their hands? You said your parents were shinobi, yes?”

 

“I’ve never seen them do anything remotely shinobi-like,” Kame replied. “They were retired.”

 

Nodding in understanding, Madara walked off the beaten path and casually walked up a tree, using only his feet. Both Kame and Mei paused, disbelieving.

 

“What the hell, Madara-sensei! That’s so cool!” Mei shouted, completely broken out of her meditation. “I want to do this!”

 

“You can try when we make camp,” Madara replied, somersaulting from the tree and back onto the path. “For now, do as I told you. This will make you more aware of the chakra flowing through your veins.”

 

Mei sighed. “Alright, Madara-sensei. But it’s really boring.”

 

Madara shrugged. “Every shinobi has to do this. The more they do it, the better.”

 

“How long did you do it for?” Mei asked curiously.

 

“I still do,” Madara told her. “Less often, because it’s not needed anymore, but the meditative state I get into is much deeper than yours, especially considering you are also walking. It helps when I want to rest but must keep my senses sharp.”

 

“So that’s what you’ve been doing, instead of sleeping,” Kame suddenly said. “Meditating.”

 

Madara shrugged. “Mostly. I’ve also been plotting, here and there.”

 

“Plotting? What?”

 

With a cheeky grin, Madara shrugged again. “Well, now that my _old friend_ will soon find out I’m alive, I’m plotting methods to drive him up the wall. It’s something I’ve always enjoyed doing, and have always been good at.”

 

Kame raised her eyebrows, and asked, “So you’ve told him, then?”

 

Madara nodded. “I sent him a summon late at night with all the details. It should reach him in a few days.”

 

“What’s a summon?” Mei asked curiously. Madara snapped his fingers at her. “Keep meditating!” he barked, and she quickly began focusing on the task at hand.

 

“Do you think he will reply?” Kame asked.

 

Madara shrugged. “I don’t think my summon would stick around for a response, and Hashirama doesn’t have a summon to send anything back to me, and even if he did, it wouldn’t know where to find me.”

 

After that conversation, the three fell into amicable silence as the landscape moved slowly past them, and after a brief pause for lunch, the unlikely group kept walking westwards. When the sun began to set, and Mei began shivering, Madara wordlessly stopped them as he reached into the backpack and pulled out two blankets, one for Mei and one for Kame. The two thanked him, and Kame asked, “Don’t you need one too, Madara-kun?”

 

He shook his head and muttered something about chakra, before urging them to keep walking. “It’s easier to stay warm if you keep moving,” he said as he began circulating chakra close to his skin to warm himself up.

 

The days only got colder from then on. Having travelled without any more interruptions, the three made good time, although as the days got shorter so did their travel time. Madara was quickly getting worried about the ever falling temperatures, and he made a quick detour during the night to a nearby settlement, from where he stole a few woolen jackets, and come morning, gave them to Kame and Mei.

 

Mei’s training was coming along well. Madara’s hunch had been correct, and the girl grasped tree walking swiftly, and whenever they stopped to make camp, she would gleefully run up and down the trees, supervised by a cautious Madara.

 

When they were only a couple of days until they reached the port, the weather took a sharp turn for the worst and the temperature dropped significantly. Even Madara’s chakra could not fully keep him warm, and only discipline allowed him to hide his shivers from Kame’s watchful eyes. Even Kame and Mei, who were swathed in warm clothes, began feeling the sharp cold nipping at their exposed hands, and Mei’s nose was constantly taking a pinkish hue. Worrying for the young girl, Kame had taken to unraveling her red head covering and giving it to Mei to use as a scarf. Madara disapproved, if only because now he had to watch out for the older woman to ensure that she wouldn’t get sick.

 

In doing so, he forgot about his own well-being (much to Kame’s exasperation), and his nose started running and he couldn’t contain his sneezes and coughs. Although his clothes were made out of a thick, shinobi-grade material, and his turtleneck was sufficient at keeping his neck cozy, the cold became too biting for even Madara to handle.

 

“The winters in the shinobi continent aren’t as intense as here,” Madara told Kame at point. “Getting snow, especially in the Fire Country, is very rare.”

 

They continued nonetheless, and soon enough, they reached the port. All three of them were visibly relieved when they reached Port Tazawa, and without much fanfare, Madara walked up to the cheapest-looking inn and demanded a room. Slightly frightened by Madara’s brusque behavior, the receptionist nodded and walked them up to the second floor, opening the door to a fairly dilapidated room with two beds. But the state of the room didn’t matter much, not when the inn was nicely warm and they served fresh food. After they had eaten and showered thoroughly, Kame and Mei collapsed in an undignified heap on one of the beds, Kame tugging the girl close to her chest. Madara loitered next to the window, when a familiar falcon landed on the windowsill and knocked impatiently with his beak.

 

Heart jumping in his chest, Madara quickly opened the window, wincing at the sudden cold air blowing into the small room, and when Kosoku jumped in, he slammed it shut unceremoniously, sniffing as he did so.

 

The falcon gave him an unimpressed stare, and said, “You are ill. Perhaps you should be wearing more than just this,” Kosoku drawled, looking significantly at Madara’s turtleneck and long trousers.

 

Madara shot him a dirty look in response, and said, “I don’t exactly have a shinobi clothing store anywhere in sight, Kosoku. How are you?”

 

“Cold,” the bird replied dryly. “The Shinobi Continent is much warmer than this.”

 

“I’m aware,” Madara said, just as dryly as his summon. “Was the mission successful?”

 

“It was,” said Kosoku. “I have delivered the scroll to the man-child, and in doing so have encountered white-skin. He is just as annoying as his summons.”

 

Madara snorted, and asked, “And how did Hashirama react?”

 

“Disbelieving,” Kosoku said promptly. “And then angry, and then he began laughing. I fail to see what was so amusing.”

 

With a stricken expression on his face, Madara turned his head to look out the window, and said, “I will be returning to the Shinobi Continent soon. Travel by ship takes two weeks, and after that I will be sending off those two,” he gestured to the two sleeping on the bed, “to Konoha, where they can be safe.”

 

“Alone?” Kosoku asked, tilting his head. “And what will you do?”

 

Crookedly, Madara grinned. “I’ll be leaving you behind to guard them,” he told Kosoku. “In my absence, I want to ensure that they are safe. If anything happens to them, as the fastest, you will be able to inform me.”

 

Frowning, Madara decided, was a very strange expression on a falcon’s face. “And in the meantime, I’ll be conducting an investigation.”

 

“Related to what was written in the scroll?” Kosoku asked immediately. “For you to reveal yourself to the man-child… it must be important.”  


“It’s important,” Madara confirmed. “Hundreds if not thousands of lives depend on it.”

 

“You are different,” Kosoku declared suddenly. “I told the man-child as much, but –“

 

Suspiciously, Madara interrupted the falcon. “ _What_ in the _world_ did you tell Hashirama?”

 

Unruffled, Kosoku replied, “The truth. That your chakra is less angry. And that your new haircut looks stupid.”

 

Madara narrowed his eyes. “You told him my hair looks stupid,” he deadpanned.

 

Kosoku rolled his eyes. “I should have. I told him it looks strange.”

 

The Uchiha sighed, and said, “Only you could focus on the most unnecessary details, Kosoku.”

 

“Nevertheless, Madara-sama,” Kosoku said, “I will watch over your charges until they reach Konoha.”

 

“Don’t let anyone see you,” Madara told him. “I don’t want them to be associated with me – they’d only be faced with unrelenting suspicion.”

 

Inclining his head, Kosoku continued. “Be careful when crossing over the sea. The winds are strong, and will only become stronger as the weather gets colder. It will be perilous,” Kosoku warned, and Madara felt something like apprehension crawl up his spine.

 

“Thank you,” Madara said suddenly, opening the window again. “I will call for you when I need you.”

 

“Soon,” Kosoku agreed, taking flight.

 

Sighing, Madara sauntered over to the bed and collapsed, allowing sleep to overtake him for the first time in a week. He slept for twelve hours straight, and Kame and Mei allowed him to rest even as they had to help wash the dishes to pay for their stay.

 

_-end part three-_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please, if you spot any mistakes make sure to point them out to me, and, as always, thanks for reading!


	5. Eye of the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Izuna will always be by Madara's side, and especially upon death.

“We can’t afford the ship,” Kame told him as soon as he was fed and watered. Blearily, he stared at her through lowered lashes.

 

“Ship?”

 

Kame rolled her eyes. “I told you to sleep more, but no, you just _had_ to be stubborn. The ship to the Shinobi Continent.”

 

“Oh,” Madara said, sipping at his coffee, and then staring at it suspiciously. “How are we affording this coffee?”

 

“We’re not,” Kame replied, “Mei-chan and I washed the dishes.”

 

“Oh,” Madara said again, continuing to sip. “Thank you. We can pay for the ship – I’ll talk to the captain.”

 

“Please don’t threaten him,” Kame told him, slightly exasperated.

 

Madara rolled his eyes. “I won’t, don’t worry. When I went on my… trip… I liberated something from the Shogun’s residence which should help us pay. Initially, I thought about giving it to Mei, but this is a better idea.”

 

“What is it?” Mei asked curiously. Madara shuffled through his weapons pouch until he removed a small, blue box and handed it over to the girl.

 

“Knock yourself out,” he grunted, focusing on his breakfast. Mei opened the box carefully and gasped at the golden earrings inside. Kame leaned over to take a better look, and froze.

 

“Madara-kun,” she breathed, “these must be worth a fortune.”

 

The Uchiha shrugged. “Definitely enough to cover travel to the continent.”

 

“Are these _rubies_?” Mei asked, eyes glittering. Frowning, Madara plucked the box from her hands and pulled out one of the earrings, eyeing it speculatively in the light.

 

“…no,” he said finally, “but it’s something better than a ruby. See how it’s orange when light hits it? This is probably imperial topaz.”

 

Both Kame and Mei looked at him curiously, and he blushed and shrugged. “I like gemstones,” he said defensively, closing the box and putting it back in his pouch. Mei giggled, and even Kame looked slightly amused. Clearing his throat, Madara asked, “So when does the ship leave?”

 

“Tonight,” Kame replied. “It’s the last ship to the continent, but we thought we wouldn’t make it, so we didn’t tell him to reserve us rooms.”

 

Downing his coffee, Madara slammed it on the table and smiled in satisfaction as the other clients in the run down inn jumped at the noise.

 

“No worries. I’ll go get us room and you pack up. I’ll be back soon,” he said, standing up and stretching. As Kame and Mei walked up the stairs to get their things, Madara eyed the windy outdoors with trepidation, before sighing and bracing himself as he opened the door and was blasted in the face with icy air. Grinding his teeth, he walked to the port, and after asking around, located the ship which was meant to be bringing them to the continent.

 

It wasn’t large, at all, but at least it looked sturdy. There were some faded letters on the side of the ship which Madara thought spelled out _Fantasea_. Cringing, Madara located the stocky man with a white beard sporting a captain’s hat, and tapped his shoulder.

 

Turning around, the old man shot him a cheerful smile, and said, “’Ello there! What can I do for you?”

 

“I need passage to the Shinobi Continent,” Madara told him.

 

The captain frowned worriedly. “Oh, I’m afraid I just sold our last cabin. You see, this is a cargo ship, and we have limited space – “

 

“I can pay,” Madara said, pulling out the box, and opening it. The captain’s eyes glittered as he saw the gems, but then he looked at Madara suspiciously.

 

“Those are worth a lot,” the captain said. “Passage doesn’t cost _that_ much. What do you want?”

 

“You have a good eye,” Madara praised blankly. “If I give you these, I want you to free up your most spacious cabin for me and two other people, as well as give us food for the duration of the journey. That’s all.”

 

“I can’t just throw out my clients!” the captain responded, outraged.

 

Madara shrugged. “Or throw out some of your cargo and stick up some hammocks and put some people there; I don’t care. These will pay for everything I want and more, so it would be foolish to refuse them.”

 

The captain clearly thought along the same lines, because he suddenly turned around to his crew and shouted out instructions to clear out some of the cargo. “You can have my cabin,” he grumbled, “it’s the biggest. And I’ll have people deliver food to your room two times a day. For three people, you say? There’s not gonna be three beds in there.”

 

Again, Madara shrugged. “I don’t need a bed, but my companions do, but don’t worry about that. As long as you keep us fed, we’ll be fine. How long will the journey last?”

 

“A week and a half,” the captain replied. “She’s a small ship, and the wind is in our favour, so we’re gonna make good time!”

 

“That’s good,” Madara chuckled. “When do we set sail?”

 

“Four hours,” the captain said. “Maybe even earlier if everyone’s ready before then.”

 

Madara nodded and thanked the captain before he quickly headed back to the warmth of the inn, where he found Kame and Mei still packing. Nonplussed, he sat down on the bed and laid on his back, saying, “We’re leaving in a bit, the sooner the better.”

 

“We’re almost done here!” Mei said cheerfully.

 

“Are you excited?” Madara asked her, looking sideways.

 

Mei smiled brightly, and said, “Yeah. Konoha sounds really pretty, and I can’t wait to become a shinobi!”

 

Madara chuckled and looked at Kame, asking the same question. The woman smiled gently, and said, “It will be nice to settle down.” The shinobi couldn’t help but agree as he stood up and helped with the packing, and soon enough, they were boarding the ship. His good mood soured, however, when he realized truly how little space there was and that they’d be stuck on the vessel for almost two weeks with little to nothing to do, although Mei’s excitement at being on the ship was palpable, and slightly contagious.

 

The _Fantasea_ set sail on time into the icy waters surrounding Tazawa. Kame decided fairly quickly that she’d help around in the kitchen to keep the boredom at bay, and Mei’s time was spent dreamily watching the ship part the ocean waters as it travelled the distance to the Shinobi Continent. As for Madara, after he managed to get some thicker clothing on him, he helped out with the general cleaning and maintenance of the ship, as well as sometimes climbing up the crow’s nest and assessing the horizon with his Sharingan.

 

A week passed in this manner, and Madara was looking forward to making port soon. Although the captain’s (whom he had quickly learned preferred to be called ‘The Captain’) quarters were comfortable, and the food was fairly decent, he felt cramped in the enclosed space and was itching to go for a good run once he got his feet back on solid land, and although he kept busy with all sorts of menial tasks, the boredom was gnawing at him and he itched for something interesting to happen.

 

He wished he hadn’t thought that.

 

A few days away from their destination, a thunderstorm hit.

 

The Captain came out onto the deck and narrowed his eyes at the horizon, before saying, “We’ve slowed down. The wind isn’t with us, anymore, and I don’t know why,” he murmured to himself, walking to his first mate. The two shared some hushed whispers and the Captain looked mollified, and announced, “Not to worry. These winds are normal – we’ll have maybe a delay of half a day.” With those words, everyone nodded and headed back to their duties, although Madara couldn’t help but be slightly suspicious of the man’s skittish behavior.

 

Still, he ignored his instincts and headed to the crow’s nest for some rest and relaxation, and was there for a few minutes, until the harsh winds picked up even more and his face felt frozen solid. Now mildly worried, Madara jumped down from the crow’s nest and made his way to the Captain, and asked, “Are you sure these winds are normal?”

 

“Bah,” the Captain said, waving a hand carelessly. “I think it’s just a storm. We’re avoiding it, anyway, so the winds should go away fairly soon.”

 

“They’re getting harsher,” Madara deadpanned, and froze when the Captain turned around to look at him in desperation.

 

“No, they’re not,” the Captain argued.

 

“Yes they are,” Madara told him again, now feeling apprehensive. “Can’t you feel it? The ship is rocking.”

 

And so it was; the _Fantasea_ was tilting, not by much more than usual, but there was a definite difference. The blood rushed out of Madara’s face as he sprinted down the stairs from the bridge of the ship and grabbed Mei from her spot on the rails at the edge of the ship, where she was staring down at the increasingly angry waves.

 

“Madara-sensei? What are you doing?” she asked in surprise as he quickly brought her to the Captain’s quarters.

 

“I need you to stay here, and hold onto the bedframe. Do not let go, do you hear me?” Madara asked her, waiting just long enough for a stunned agreement from the girl before he dashed to find Kame.

 

The older woman was in the brig, helping chop up some meat. Madara swung down the narrow steps and, quickly locating Kame, walked over to her and picked her up, ignoring her protests, before running back up the stairs and dropping her next to Mei.

 

“What the hell was that for?” Kame asked, eyes wide with surprise. “Madara-kun, what’s wrong?”

 

“I don’t know,” Madara confessed, “but something’s happening and the Captain refuses to admit it.” He relayed the same instructions to Kame as he had to Mei, and then shut the door firmly behind him before walking back up to the Captain, whom he could feel was feeling increasing trepidation.

 

“Captain,” Madara said harshly, grabbing his shoulders and forcing the man to face him. “What’s going on?”

 

“It’s just a storm,” the Captain assured weakly, even as a wave rocked up to the starboard. Madara felt his mouth dry out as he watched the water trickle on the deck. “Just a storm,” the Captain repeated as he clutched the helm with a death grip.

 

“We’re heading straight to it,” Madara whispered, Sharingan activated.

 

“No, we’re avoiding it,” the Captain repeated, even as the ship rocked dangerously.

 

“No, we’re not!” Madara shouted. “You idiot, I can see it! We’re heading straight for the eye of the storm!”

 

The Captain paled even further, but took a deep breath and said, “The cargo is secure. It will hold us down in case the waves get taller.”

 

Madara narrowed his eyes, but having close to no knowledge about sailing, chose not to answer, and instead directed his gaze back towards the storm. Tiny droplets of water had begun falling, making his hair stick to his forehead, and he blinked some stray drops out of his eyes. Angrily, he vaulted over the bridge and made his way to their quarters.

 

“Mei,” he spoke, “it’s time to test your shinobi skills. Remember what I taught you about tree walking?”

 

“Yeah,” Mei replied, nodding. “Keep the chakra flow even at all times and –“

 

“Good,” Madara interrupted. “It’s time to put these skills to the test. Stay in this room unless I come and get you, but I want you to stick to this floor like it’s the last thing you do, and make sure you _don’t let go of Kame-san_. Do you understand?”

 

Mei swallowed nervously, but nodded. “I understand.”

 

A flash of something went through Madara’s eyes as he stuck a hand out and ruffled her hair. “I promise, if push comes to shove, I will come and get you.”

 

“Okay,” she promised, voice faltering.

 

“Madara-kun,” Kame spoke, her posture solid and unrelenting. “What’s happening?”

 

It was Madara’s turn to swallow nervously. “We’re going through a storm,” he said slowly, as the rain began battering the wood above the cabin. “We’ll be fine,” he promised weakly. Blinking furiously, he stepped outside –

 

Just in time to see a large wave heading their way. It darkened the already dark sky, and for the first time since his battle with Hashirama, Madara feared for his life. He shut the door to the cabin even as he heard Mei and Kame cry out and planted his feet firmly on the deck, holding on with as much chakra as he could use without splintering the wood, when the wave crashed into the ship and suddenly people were rolling everywhere.

 

He drew in a shuddering breath when the water cleared away, and he saw the sailors who had managed to grab onto something shakily stand up, before a look of horror crossed his face when he heard a shout of “Man overboard!”

 

Madara ran to the bannister and kept a tight hold on the side as his Sharingan scanned for life, but he saw nothing, and with a sinking feeling he realized that he couldn’t spot the man because he was either already dead, or too far underwater for even his eye to pierce.

 

As the reality of the situation sank in, he realized his thick clothes were wet and he began shivering uncontrollably. Almost violently, he tore apart the waterlogged jacket and threw it overboard. Suddenly, the Captain’s voice was overhead over the chaos.

 

“Reduce sail!” the Captain shouted, “Run under bare poles!”

 

The waterlogged men struggled to comply, and even though Madara didn’t quite understand the orders he followed, simply mimicking those around him. The men were pulling the ropes to the sails so Madara helped where he could, using chakra to enhance his pulls as he went.

 

“The fire!” someone shouted to Madara’s left, “embers flew out of the fireplace and the ship is on fire!”

 

“Put it out!” someone else shouted back. “We have to batten down the hatches!”

 

“Put it out!” the Captain confirmed as he pulled the helm violently.

 

No one got the chance to, as in the next second they were hit by a second wave, and this time Madara was woefully unprepared for it. He was flung up from the deck, the sudden motion making him feel sick, and, bizarrely, what went through his head was that despite the hectic lifestyle of a shinobi, no one prepared him for _this_. Flailing, he managed to catch hold of one of the ropes, and distantly wondered why they were flying around up there.

 

“The lines have snapped!” a crewmember shouted to the Captain, “There’s no tension holding the sails up!”

 

“Cut the sails, damn it! Someone climb up there!” the Captain yelled back, still fighting with the helm. Distantly hearing the orders, Madara’s eyes narrowed as he pulled himself up the wet rope, ignoring the carpet burn that was being seared by the salt water. Using his upper body, he swung himself until he reached the highest mast and, thankful for his ever-present weapons pouch, took out a kunai and began cutting through the ropes still holding the sails up, before issuing a warning of, “They’re coming down!” and trying to fling what was left of the sails into the angry waters. Now holding onto the crow’s nest with as much chakra as he dared, he looked onto the situation from above with wide eyes, unsure of what to do next.

 

When the next wave hit, somehow even taller than the one before, Madara braced himself against the mast and gasped as icy cold water hit his back, but managed to keep a hold of himself and aside from a bit of breathlessness he recovered quickly, falling back down onto the deck and into a roll to soften his landing. And not a second too soon; behind him, he heard the tell-tale sign of the creaking of wood and cursed as the mast collapsed and pierced the side of the hull.

 

Water rushed into the hull and suddenly the ship was tilting rapidly to the left, and Madara lost his footing and slipped on the deck as he looked at the breach on the side of the ship with ever increasing horror. The ship kept tilting and Madara desperately grabbed hold of anything that was bolted down and infused his hold with chakra, and closed his eyes. All around him, he could only hear the roaring sounds of the hurricane and the terrified screams of the crew members and the passengers, and he took in a deep breath.

  
Another wave washed over him, smaller than the last, and the cold water forced him to gasp out a breath of air, and opened his eyes.

 

The ship was breaking in half.

 

Reality felt suspended as the world slowed down long enough for Madara to process this and his grip slackened briefly – which was enough for the next angry wave to dislodge him from his place on the almost-vertical deck, and he saw, more than he felt himself being propelled into the cold waters.

 

“Madara-sensei!” a high-pitched voice reached him just before his body hit the deep waters, and in his shock he gasped, and water rushed down his throat. Automatically, he began coughing but all it did was allow more water into his lungs. Madara thrashed around, trying to find something to use to propel himself forward but soon realized that the water was too deep for him to reach the bottom with his chakra and hold himself up.

 

He was going to die. That was it, then. He felt his muscles relax as his body kept sinking further and further down. His eyes opened, one last time, and through the dark waters he thought he saw something. The ship. His arm twitched. It was sideways. He saw the outlines of some figures, and thought that it was stupid to be swimming in such cold water.

 

Madara exhaled as his burning eyes were fixed onto something straight above him. What _was_ that? It looked odd. He closed his eyes.

 

 _I have faith in you_.

 

The words rang through his ears and suddenly, he remembered what he was meant to be doing. His lungs were burning and he couldn’t breathe, but he had to save Kame and Mei. He had to. There was no other option.

 

Forcing chakra into his arms, which was more difficult than usual, he began wading through the cold waters and when he broke the surface his head hit something and he blindly grasped it, clawing onto it with the desperation of a dying man.

 

Madara began coughing violently, spewing salt water everywhere and feeling his nose burning, but his Sharingan span furiously as it scanned the remains of the sinking ship. Surrounding it were bodies, bloated and dead-looking, and Madara realized that they weren’t swimmers taking a dip, as he’d deliriously thought. If he narrowed his eyes, he could spot the Captain sinking, just below the water.

 

“Madara-sensei!” the same high-pitched voice from earlier shouted, and his gaze was directed to the top – or was it bottom? – of the upturned vessel. The ship was slowly sinking and Mei and Kame were on top of it. He could see the Mei’s determined chakra flow hold onto the violently rocking ship even as Kame was clutching at the girl in fear. “Madara-sensei! There’s a rowboat between you and the ship!”

 

Mei was correct; just a bit away from Madara was a small, wooden, rickety boat without any oars, but it was significantly safer than what Madara was currently using, which was a bit of driftwood which could barely carry his weight.

 

As he coughed up some more water, he ignored the burning in his lungs and, when he was sure his lungs were fairly clear, he dived back into the water and swam as fast as he could to the rowboat, grabbing onto it with one hand and pulling it behind him as he swam.

 

“Jump!” he shouted at the two after he hauled himself into the rowboat. “I’ll catch you!” His voice was croaky and it hurt to speak, but he ignored all of it as he held his arms up.

 

Kame was hesitating, and Madara’s eyes narrowed as he shouted an order to Mei. “Push her, now!”

 

Without hesitation, the young girl pushed Kame and the woman screamed as she began falling, only to be caught by Madara’s expecting arms. Not waiting for Kame to relax, he put her behind him on the rowboat and waited until Mei made the jump.

 

Once the girl was safely aboard the rowboat as well, Madara turned around and looked at the eye of the storm with trepidation, and said, “We’re not safe yet.”

 

His Sharingan whirled, and he grabbed both Kame and Mei’s hands, as he whispered, “ _Susanoo_.”

 

Suddenly, blue chakra enveloped the tiny rowboat, and what looked like a ribcage formed around them. Kame and Mei shouted in surprise as the rain suddenly stopped and the next wave hit against the barrier of chakra only to disperse with a fizz. Madara panted and he closed his eyes, coughing violently. Immediately, Kame was by his side, but Madara waved her away and said in a croaky voice, “We will be safe within Susanoo until the storm disperses.” With those words, he began trembling, as he rubbed his hands together.

 

With sharp eyes, he watched Kame and Mei as they sat opposite him, and asked, “Are you cold?”

 

Kame smiled shakily and said, “Yeah, obviously, but we’ll be fine, our clothes aren’t that wet. What about you?”

 

Madara nodded as he breathed out condensation. “My chakra keeps me warm. Don’t worry.” With those words, he leaned his head back as far as he could and breathed out through his teeth, summoning his chakra to his skin.

 

“Mei. If you’re cold, start meditating like I told you,” he whispered through rattling teeth. “And then focus on working your chakra all the way up to your skin.”

 

The girl nodded and closed her eyes as Kame tugged her close, and with one eye slightly open Madara kept an eye on her, nodding when he could see her chakra working to relax her muscles.

 

The three winced when a lightning bolt shot out of the sky but was intercepted by the purple ribcage protecting them, and Kame asked, “Madara-kun… what is this?”

 

Madara closed his eyes again and said, “Part of my Sharingan. I’ll explain later…” his voice was nothing but a wheeze at this point. “I’m going to… not speak. My throat hurts.”

 

Kame nodded at him and gripped Mei tighter to her body.

 

The hurricane was slowly moving away from them, Kame realized. Mei still had her eyes closed and she suspected that Madara-kun had fallen into a meditative state. The rolling clouds were now directly above them and moving east. Kame shuddered, and for the first time since Madara took them away from their burning village she wondered if blindly following this man she knew nothing about was a good idea.

 

And then she shook the idea out of her head, because she knew plenty of things about Madara – things he had told her and things she had observed. He was a man who dearly loved his brother. Someone who went mad with grief after his brother was killed by his best friend’s brother. He was someone who fell into that dark pit of depression and then had slowly clawed himself back out of it even after others would have thought it was too late.

 

Madara loved this Hashirama man dearly, Kame thought, and she suspected that it was only his brother’s last request that made him push his best friend away.

 

Madara was a man who saw Mei in danger and then instantly protected her, regardless of what he had said about self-preservation. He saw a young, vulnerable girl and helped her find ways to protect herself. And he looked at Kame herself and saw a woman he respected, and a woman he wanted to keep safe.

 

Kame looked at the lines on Madara’s face – lines which were etched with exhaustion, pain, and fear – and she knew that he was a good man who had put his life in danger for the safety of other lives by informing his best friend of his continued survival. She absentmindedly stroked Mei’s damp hair as she looked up at this enormous… beast of a jutsu, for lack of a better word, which protected them at Madara’s will, and she saw a man with the power to destroy using it to protect.

 

And, looking at the man himself – Kame froze as she watched his chest breathe laboriously. Lunging over to him, she shook him awake, and to her relief, his eyes opened.

 

“Kame-san?” he asked, confused. “What’s happening?”

 

“Oh,” she breathed out, relieved. “I’m sorry. I thought something was wrong with you.”

 

With shaking hands, he seemed to struggle to brush his hair out of his face and he said, “No… no, I’m alright. The storm?”

 

“Abating slightly,” Kame replied, still concerned when she noticed his intense shivering. “Are you cold?”

 

“No,” Madara replied stubbornly, “’m fine. I was meditating.”

 

“Oh, alright,” she said, still unconvinced but unable to do much about it. Sitting back down next to Mei, who she noticed felt significantly warmer to the touch. Mollified with the knowledge that the chakra was, indeed, making the girl warmer, she shot a glance to Madara who had drawn his knees to his chest and rested his chin on them, eyes still closed and knees shivering.

 

“Madara-kun,” she tried again, and this time he didn’t answer, and although he opened his eyes, he didn’t seem to be seeing her. Instead, they stared at something over her shoulder, but when she looked back she couldn’t see anything of interest.

  
Focusing back on the Uchiha, she noticed that he was mouthing words silently, and then stopping, and then speaking to himself again. “Madara-kun?” she asked, fearfully. With those words, Mei’s eyes opened and she looked at the shinobi.

 

“What’s wrong with Madara-sensei?” she asked, wide eyed as she took in Madara’s unsettling actions.

 

“I don’t know,” Kame told her, reaching out to touch Madara. He flinched violently, away from her hands, and resumed his soft speech, even more furiously than before. “He’s cold,” Kame said, “really cold. When you were using chakra to warm yourself up you felt warmer but he isn’t. Why isn’t he warmer?” Kame asked, a hint of distress in her voice. “Madara-kun!”

 

_“Madara-kun!”_

Madara really wanted to answer Kame, he really did, but he couldn’t, not when Izuna was looking at him from behind her and speaking to him so softly. He tried reaching out to his brother but he realized he couldn’t control his hands very well, so instead he settled for replying to his brother’s soft words.

 

“Brother,” Izuna said, a slight smile on his face as he floated on the angry waters of the ocean, “brother, you’re freezing to death.”

 

“I know,” Madara told him.

 

“Why aren’t you warming yourself up?”

 

“If I do, the Susanoo will go away,” Madara replied, slightly confused. “Why is Susanoo here?”

 

“To protect Kame-san and Mei,” his brother replied helpfully.

 

“That’s right,” Madara confirmed. “I have to make sure they’re safe.”

 

“No one will miss them if they’re gone,” Izuna told him suddenly, “you could save yourself.”

 

“I could,” Madara agreed. “But they’re my only hope for redeeming myself.”

 

“No they’re not,” Izuna argued softly, coming up to Madara’s side and petting his brother’s hair. “You’re going to save the Elemental Nations from war.”

 

Madara frowned, confused again. “But I’m only doing that to keep them safe.”

 

“Are you?”

 

Izuna’s question threw him in for a loop, and Madara tried reasoning that _yes, he was only doing it to make sure Kame and Mei survived_.

 

“Are you?” Izuna asked again. “Or do you want Hashirama’s approval?”

 

Madara tried scoffing, but his teeth just chattered. “Why?”

 

“Because he’s the closest thing you have left to a brother,” Izuna replied softly.

 

Madara shook his head. “No, you’re my brother.”

 

“I’m dead,” Izuna said cheerfully. “This is all in your head, brother.”

  
Suddenly Izuna disappeared and Madara returned to reality with a gasp, catching Kame’s worried dark eyes.

 

“Madara-kun?”

 

“Kame-san,” he croaked back at her, idly realizing that the shivering stopped. “Is the storm over?”

 

“Soon,” she promised, grabbing a hold of his hands. “Madara-kun, you’re blue.”

 

“Hypothermia,” Madara managed to breathe out as he looked to the discoloration of his fingers. “I can’t breathe very well. I don’t want to lose my fingers…” he rambled, losing focus in his sight as his eyes slipped shut again.

 

“Madara-kun? Madara!”

 

His head fell back against the edge of the boat as he momentarily lost consciousness, before snapping back with wide eyes, breathing labored.

 

“Stay with me, Madara,” Kame said, snapping her fingers in front of his eyes.

 

“I can’t move my fingers,” Madara told her instead, strangely at ease with the information. Above them, the Susanoo flickered dangerously. “Oh. I don’t have a lot of chakra. Doesn’t feel very good,” he rambled aimlessly.

 

“When people run out of chakra they die,” Mei whispered from behind Kame. “It’s one of the first things he taught me.”

 

Madara’s lips stretched over his teeth as he laughed breathily. “I miss Izuna.”

 

“I know you do, sweetheart,” Kame said, doing her best to rub some warmth back into Madara’s fingers.

 

“No, no,” Madara kept rambling, “you don’t understand. He was here!”

 

“Was he now?” Kame asked, encouraging him to speak, before slowly realizing the mistake she’d been making all along. “Damn it. His clothes are soaked. Mei! Help me get him out of them!”

 

“Kunai,” Madara told them, still smiling. “Izuna’s telling you what to do right now. He’s smart, you should listen.”

 

“We will,” Kame promised, reaching into Madara’s waterlogged weapons pouch and carefully pulling out a kunai, before using it to tear through his turtleneck and trying her best to remove it as fast as possible. Madara’s head lolled forward, into his chest, and he mumbled, “Kame-san? Is the storm over?” in the smallest voice she had ever heard from him. Her heart hurt just looking at him, so she craned her neck back as she investigated the weather above them.

 

“Yes, Madara-kun, it’s over.”

  
  
“Good,” he breathed as the purple form above them flickered and disappeared, leaving them alone with the now unconscious Uchiha.

 

“Mei, we have to warm him up somehow,” Kame ordered as she tore off his gloves and took the kunai to his trousers and shoes.

 

It wasn’t just his hands that were blue, Kame realized with horror, but his legs as well, all the way up to his knees. “Take his feet into your hands and very slowly massage them,” she ordered brusquely, carefully shifting to the other side of the boat and taking Madara’s head in her lap. “Mei! Do as I say!”

 

“O-okay,” Mei replied with a stutter as she reached for her sensei’s legs and began using her own, warm hands to try and heat his extremities up.

 

It didn’t seem to work very well. Madara’s respiration turned erratic, and when Kame reached over to his wrist to take his pulse, she couldn’t find it, at all. Something terrible unfurled in her gut as she tried again between his collarbones, without luck. She redoubled her efforts at trying to warm him up, until, suddenly –

 

Madara took a long, slow breath, and then his chest stopped moving. 

 

_-end part four-_


	6. Eyes of the Samsara

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madara wakes up alone, the First Shinobi War is underway, and Hashirama investigates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the unfinished final chapter of Only Shot at Honor. It's very likely I won't be continuing it. Thank you everyone for reading this self-indulgent story even though I wasn't able to complete it. 
> 
> I apologize for the abrupt end to this. I simply don't have any more ideas, but I love this story very much so I thought I should at least post this chapter.

Everything was hurting. It felt like there were little shards underneath his skin digging into him with every twitch of his limbs. Distantly, he realized he was lying down  and that it was very dark, and also quite cold.

 

Madara inhaled sharply and then started coughing when what felt like gritty sand went up his nose. His eyes snapped open, and, in a panic, he realized he couldn’t see anything. Adrenaline began roaring through his system as he kicked his legs and arms out, trying to get out of wherever he was. Sand was getting in his eyes, and it was unnervingly irritating. Madara narrowed his eyes and flexed his chakra.

 

Sand particles flew everywhere and Madara froze in disbelief as he saw a ring of chakra explode out of his body, freeing him and allowing him to take a deep breath of fresh air. His nose and lungs felt like they had been scrubbed raw with sandpaper, but the air he was breathing was so refreshing he inhaled like a man drowning.

 

Speaking of drowning, Madara thought as he narrowed his eyes, didn’t he drown?

 

He sat up, looking down at himself and realizing that he was naked excepting for his undergarments. He wiggled his toes. He was definitely not dead. He stood up shakily and froze as he saw the sea before him, calm waves running over the shore. It was dark outside – it seemed to be the middle of the night. Madara’s skin erupted in goosebumps as chilly air washed over his skin and he absentmindedly summoned some chakra to his skin to keep himself warm.

 

What had happened?

 

Madara struggled to remember. The last thing he remembered was _not_ drowning, and then swimming over to Mei and Kame and putting them in that little boat. Then he summoned Susanoo, to protect them from the hurricane. And then…

 

Madara blanched as he remembered seeing Izuna’s face clear as day just floating next to the boat, and he stiffened. Hypothermia. Some of the symptoms was amnesia and sluggish thinking, but it definitely didn’t explain Izuna suddenly appearing in front of him and berating him. Which only meant that, after he had held Susanoo active for so long, his chakra reserves were depleted in less than an hour, causing chakra exhaustion, which caused hallucinations, dizziness, loss of consciousness, and, eventually, death.

 

He looked behind himself at the whole he had been buried under, and at the makeshift wooden gravestone propped up behind where his head had been.

 

_Madara – friend, teacher, protector._

 

So he _had_ died. Whether it was hypothermia, chakra exhaustion, or a mix of the two, Madara didn’t know, and didn’t particularly care to find out. What he _did_ want to know was how he came back to life, and how long he’d been dead for, and whether Kame and Mei were safe.

 

Madara pushed back his hair out of his left eye, and froze.

 

He could see. His left eye wasn’t blind anymore. His heartrate picked up as he tried finding some reflective surfaces around, but all he ended up doing was just digging in the sand like a madman.

 

He wasn’t blind anymore! Instinctively, he tried activating his Sharingan by sending the usual burst of chakra into his eyes, and then jumped back violently as the action only served to push another ring of chakra out of his body, causing sand to be forcefully pushed back and away from Madara.

 

His heart thudded in his chest as he touched his eyelids in shock. To his right, he could see a ball of chakra, tightening and releasing in rapid succession, before releasing one last time as an animal appeared out of it – a falcon. Kosoku.

 

The falcon landed on the ground as he gracefully tightened his wings around his body and looked at Madara coolly. Madara, with his hand over his left eye, simply stared in shock at the summon, and then croaked out, “What happened?”

 

The falcon didn’t reply right away; he eyed the Uchiha assessingly for a minute or so, in which Madara didn’t dare break the silence.

 

“You died,” Kosoku told him, “and it was convincing enough that even we were released from our contract.”

 

“I got that part,” Madara replied, bringing his hand down from his eye and rubbing his hands together, slightly nervously. “Why am I alive? Where am I? If you were released from the contract, how did you find me?”

 

Kosoku blinked once, twice, and pierced him with that intelligent, green-eyed gaze. “I do not know why you are alive. You are on the beaches of what you call Tea Country – your final resting place. I found you because the contract was reformed automatically, possibly when you were resuscitated, and it pulled me here.”

 

“Tea Country?” Madara whispered. “How…?”

 

“After you died,” Kosoku interrupted brusquely, “I felt the contract dissipate, and so did Ridahayabusa-sama. He sent me to investigate. I found your corpse floating in the middle of Kanashii Ocean, on a boat, with those two you were protecting. I followed your final orders. I summoned Ridahayabusa-sama himself, and he ensured they got to land safely, after which they insisted on burying you.” One of his wings extended as if to point at the grave behind him. “This was to be your tomb. I then escorted them to Konohagakure, told them not to mention your name, and returned to my home. And now,” he finished, narrowing his eyes, “you are alive.”

 

Madara felt a relieved breath rush out of him, and he said, “Then Kame and Mei are safe.”

 

“Of that, I am not sure,” the falcon seemed to shrug. “War has broken out.”

 

“Kosoku,” Madara began, dread trickling down his spine, “how long have I been dead for?”

 

“Near a month,” Kosoku replied unblinkingly.

 

Madara stiffened and his eyes shifted to the calm waves of the ocean hitting the beach as he processed the information.

 

“Madara-sama,” Kosoku said tartly, “if you insist of making a habit of _dying_ and then coming back, please warn us first. Although, I am curious. What happened to your eyes?”

 

Madara’s head shot back towards his summon’s. “I don’t know. My Sharingan won’t activate and I can’t see what’s going on. I’ve regained sight in my left eye,” he said, gesturing.

 

Kosoku narrowed his eyes as he took off and hovered in front of Madara’s face, flapping his wings to keep himself up.

 

“The eyes are purple,” he announced, “with circular ripples all along the eye. There is no iris, but there is a darker circle close to your pupil which I assume should replace it.” His assessment complete, Kosoku nodded and landed on the beach again.

 

“The Rinnegan,” Madara breathed out suddenly. “My theories… I have the Rinnegan! But that means – “ a dark look crossed Madara’s face, and he said, “I know what happened. I know why I’m alive.” Sitting down cross-legged, Madara rested his chin in a palm and began speaking.

 

“Shortly after my first… death, if you will, I implanted some of Hashirama’s cells into my own body in hopes of activating the Rinnegan. It never did, and I didn’t receive his healing powers, so I just assumed it hadn’t worked and moved on. But now…” his eyes narrowed as he thought of the latest events. “I had to die. My death probably kicked Hashirama’s cells into high gear and they began working to heal me, and in doing so, mixed with my own to create the Rinnegan.”

 

Kosoku looked unimpressed. “Your hair is long again.”

 

Madara looked at him in shock as he ran his fingers through his hair, and realized that, indeed, his hair had been grown out. “Probably the regenerative properties of Hashirama’s cells,” Madara admitted. “As they were healing me, they probably lengthened my hair, as well. And my nails,” Madara noticed with mild disgust as he eyed his ridiculously long nails.

 

“You can claw at your enemies with those,” Kosoku replied, now sounding mildly impressed.

 

“Or I could cut them,” Madara offered, picking at them.

 

Kosoku rolled his eyes. “Waste of a weapon, if you ask me.”  


“Good job I’m not asking you, then,” Madara grouched, biting his fingernails and ripping the overgrown part off. “Why am I naked?”

 

“I assume those two took your clothes off in an effort to warm you up,” Kosoku said. “I took the rest of your items and put them away in a safe place.”

 

“Could I have them back?” Madara asked, standing up again and stretching.

 

“You will have to speak to Ridahayabusa-sama first,” Kosoku said seriously. “He is not very pleased with you, Madara-sama.”

 

Madara sighed as he thought of the large, fat, old, falcon that made up the chief of the falcon summons. “If I must.”

 

Satisfied, Kosoku nodded and landed on Madara’s head, before tightening his talon’s on his master’s hair and expelling his chakra outward. The world blurred and Madara winced as he closed his eyes, only opening them when he felt the spinning sensation stop and his feet touching land again.

 

When his eyes opened, he saw the familiar realm of falcons. A collection of small islands were gathered together in the air, held up by nothing but thick chakra that Madara realized belonged to Ridahayabusa. Falcons of different sizes and colors were flying around freely, some swooping down in between the forests to hunt and others just riding the harsh winds. Kosoku let go of Madara’s hair and took off, expecting Madara to follow.

 

The route was familiar, and one he had walked before when he had first contracted the falcons, except the first time had been a challenge, and this simply felt like a walk through the thick forests of Konoha.

 

To contract the falcons, Madara not only had to go on a wild goose chase to actually find the scroll and sign it, but when he first tried summoning Ridahayabusa he was instead transported to this very place. During that time, it was dark and there were no sounds, eerily, and he had been stripped of his chakra. He was forced to wander through the dark forest without the aid of his kekkei genkai or any of his jutsu. He spent a week in that godforsaken, darkened forest, and was forced to hunt and survive off the land, which was exceptionally difficult when the animals of the forest made no noise. After the week was up, everything became lit up suddenly and the natural noises of the forest assaulted him, and a trio of falcons – whom he still doesn’t know the names of – escorted him to the nest of Ridahayabusa. The leader congratulated him for his exceptional hunting skills and allowed him to sign the contract for falcons, and then sent him back to his dimension, only five minutes after he had first opened the summoning scroll.

 

As he walked through the familiar forest, guided by Kosoku, his heart couldn’t help but sink at the possibility of being stuck in that darkened hell for another week, but it seemed his fears were unfounded. Kosoku landed in a tree and gestured for Madara to keep on walking, until he finally reached the familiar clearing where Ridahayabusa rested.

 

The falcon looked much older than he had when they had first met, but still just as large and ruthless-looking. Its feathers were mostly white but had black and brown stripes down all the way to his tail, and the eyes were jet black, boring into Madara’s.

 

Madara stopped before Ridahaybusa and fell into a bow. “Ridahaybusa-sama,” he muttered, “it is an honor.”

 

“Ma-da-ra,” Ridahayabusa spoke, parting his name into syllables as he always had. “You are still causing… trouble for us.”

 

Madara nodded, but did not reply, having learned early on that he should allow Ridahayabusa time between sentences, and if he did not, there would be hell to pay.

 

“You were dead,” the old falcon said in his usual halting manner, cocking his head at the shinobi before him, “and then you were not.” There was another long pause, in which Ridahayabusa ruffled his feathers and eyed him blankly. “I do not care why… Welcome back… to the land of the living, summoner.”

 

Taking this as a cue to reply, Madara stood up from his deep bow and said, “I am glad to be back, Ridahayabusa-sama.”

 

Ridahayabusa opened and closed his beak, several times, as his eyes moved over Madara’s body several times. “Your chakra,” he began, “Kosoku told… me that your chakra… feels different.” He repeated these motions for several more seconds, before he nodded thoughtfully. “Your… curse… is gone.”

 

“My curse?” Madara asked, narrowing his eyes. “What curse?”

 

“The curse… of the Uchiha,” Ridahayabusa spoke, blinking slowly. Madara waited for the falcon to continue to speak, but when it became clear that he was done, he frowned.

 

“What curse?” he repeated.

 

“Hatred…” Ridahayabusa said, “you have… overcome it, Ma-da-ra. Impressive.”

 

“My curse of hatred?” Madara repeated, disbelieving. “I only hate those who deserve it, Ridahayabusa-sama.”

 

“No,” Ridahayabusa thundered, and turned away from the summoner. “Leave… now, Ma-da-ra.”

 

Dropping into another bow, Madara began turning back, more confused than he had been when he arrived, when Kosoku swooped into the clearing and landed before Ridahayabusa.

 

“Great Grandfather,” Kosoku said, “Madara-sama will require our help. His precious ones are in danger, and his old nest is at war with others. Will you lend your help to the boy?”

 

Ridahayabusa turned around and eyed Madara thoughtfully. “When… Ma-da-ra needs me… I will come.” With those words, the old falcon began ignoring the two, settling down. Kosoku nodded, unseen by the older falcon, and landed back on Madara’s head. The Uchiha closed his eyes with a sigh as the spinning sensation overtook him, and suddenly they were back on the beach.

 

“You will need clothing,” Kosoku said, assessing him critically. The falcon dropped Madara’s recognizable weapons pouch on the sand. “Your weapons and scrolls are here.”

 

“Thank you, Kosoku,” Madara said, inclining his head in gratitude.

 

“Do not thank me yet,” Kosoku said sharply. “There is much to be done. The two females are in Konohagakure, but your village is at war with all the others. They use the power of the bijuu to fight, and if I were you I would fear for they safety.”

 

Madara nodded, mind whirling with possibilities.

 

“I would advise sticking to the shadows and only revealing yourself when the time in right,” Kosoku told him.

 

“What good would it serve?” Madara asked, frowning. “Hashirama knows I’m alive – and I assume so does the rest of the shinobi world, after what happened with that Shogun.”

 

Looking mildly confused, the falcon said, “Only man-child and white-skin knew of your survival. No one else did,” Kosoku told him.

 

“So that Kumo-nin didn’t tell anyone… or if he did, his Kage thought it best to keep quiet,” Madara muttered, before Kosoku’s words caught up to him. “Wait, what do you mean by ‘ _knew_ ’?”

 

Kosoku ruffled his feathers awkwardly. “Upon my arrival to Konohagakure, after ensuring your two females had been safely accepted into the village, I spoke to the man-child and told him of your demise,” he explained. “I thought it best he did not rely on your aid.”

 

Madara’s mind drew a blank. “So, Hashirama now thinks I’m dead? Again?”

 

“You died valiantly,” Kosoku supplied, “I told him you died saving two civilians from drowning. White-skin seemed prepared to argue with that fact, but man-child was more than happy to accept it.”

 

“Of course he was,” Madara muttered through gritted teeth. “Kami, this is such a mess.” When Kosoku nodded knowingly, Madara snapped his fingers and said, “Alright. I’ll go gear up, and I’ll be calling for you soon.”

 

With an approving nod, the falcon disappeared and Madara was left alone and mostly naked on the beach, with only his weapons pouch at hand. With a resigned sigh, he picked up the pouch and channeled chakra to his feet as he left the beach and made his way to the first town.   
  
He’d have to go to Konoha soon, but first, he had to get some clothes. Everything was quiet in Degarashi Port, most merchants being asleep, so Madara took the opportunity to break into a very small, fairly dingy shinobi store, where he stocked up on the essentials – kunai, shuriken, storage scrolls, senbon, and even a few handy vials of poison. The quality was much lower than what he was used to – as a scion of the Uchiha clan he never needed to walk into a store to buy such weapons, since they were being produced by the clan members themselves. He also picked up a new weapon pouch, since his old one had gotten so damaged after the incident with the _Fantasea_ Madara didn’t want to risk it ripping open in the middle of a fight.

 

Placing all of his new items on the counter in the darkened shop, Madara quickly picked out the standard turtleneck-and –trousers combo popular in the Fire Country which, thankfully, Tea Country was closest to. He got dressed as quickly as he could and then found some sandals his size, and once he put those on as well, began scouring the shop for a pair of gloves. Finding some behind the counter, he slipped them on and gathered the rest of the items and dashed out of Degarashi Port, only stopping a few miles away from it.

 

Carefully, he pulled out one of his old storage scrolls and unsealed it, smiling faintly as his faithful gunbai, his kama, and his armor all came tumbling out. With great care, he put his armor on, brushing away the dust with his gloved hand, and then secured his gunbai to his back and his kama to his hip. As he felt the familiar weight of his gunbai settling against his back, he smiled widely and felt something like excitement creep up his spine.

 

It was time to test out his new Rinnegan. But first, he had to sneak into the Naka Shrine in the Uchiha Compound and steal the Stone Tablet.

  
For the first time in his life, Madara was thankful that the Uchiha Compound was separated from the actual village, which was bursting with life. Masking his chakra expertly, he blended in with the shadows as he nostalgically watched over the village which had expanded massively in the years he’d been away. Distantly, he could feel Hashirama’s resting chakra signature flowing peacefully.

 

Turns out the man had gone ahead with his ridiculous plan of carving his face into the face of the mountain. Hashirama’s ugly mug watched over the village, but Madara had to agree it did inspire some sense of security. Scoffing to himself, he jumped through the familiar forests until he reached the Uchiha Compound’s outer walls and flattened himself to the ground as he scanned the area for any of his clansmen.

 

The way to the shrine was clear, as it was, thankfully, out of the way of the rest of the compound, and Madara managed to infiltrate it without many issues. Silently, he crept over the lands, forming the seals needed to open the entrance way quickly. As he stepped down, into the shrine, he made sure to pull the slab shut over him, and with some quick Fire jutsu, he lit up the torches lining the walls.

 

As he walked along the main hall, his hand was brushing against the walls and he began counting the tatami mats. _Five... six… seven_. He kicked the mat off and descended into the secret room, grabbing one of the torches as he went, and walked up to the stone monument that was the Sage of Six Paths’ Stone Tablet. Resting on his knees, Madara began reading the tablet, discovering things he had not noticed before. With narrowed eyes, he went over the secrets of the Mangekyo Sharingan, which he had memorized all those years ago, before he hungrily began reading the other secrets which were readily available with the Rinnegan on hand.

 

_When someone who possesses the power of Samsara approaches the moon, an eye will open that is reflected on the moon to grant the eternal dream._

As Madara read through the sentence, he felt ambition swell inside of him, before his eyes caught something strange – the handwriting was different. Who _in the world_ would have written this? Madara frowned as he ran his fingers over the cold tablet. It seemed like someone desired to cast an Infinite Tsukuyomi – even as earlier parts of the tablet warned against someone named Kaguya’s Infinite Tsukuyomi.

 

Interest piqued, Madara made himself comfortable as he began deciphering the contents of the tablet.

 

An hour later he groaned as he leaned back and rested on the cold floors. “I’m doomed to keep finding conspiracies, aren’t I?” he muttered to himself, rubbing his face tiredly. “I haven’t even found the secrets of the Rinnegan… damn.”

 

Standing up and eyeing the tablet suspiciously, he eventually rolled out a scroll and performed the sequence of seals necessary for the procedure of sealing the tablet up. This was dangerous information, and tempting one, at that. Decisively, Madara rolled up his scroll back after the tablet had vanished from its spot on the monument, only to freeze as he felt a large number of chakra signatures gather outside the shrine.

 

“Fuck,” Madara cursed, as he realized his foolishness. Of course. He’d forgotten about the safeguards in place to guard against the theft of the Uchiha’s precious treasure. Of course the entire clan would be alerted the second it went missing.

 

Madara quickly put the scroll away and climbed up through the ceiling, and pushed the tatami mat where it belonged. As he felt chakra being molded in the correct sequence for removing the entrance slab, Madara readied himself to make a run for it, masking his chakra as best he could.

 

When a young Uchiha appeared above Madara, Sharingan whirling threateningly, Madara quickly got him with an uppercut to the chin, and, before the boy realized who exactly had attacked him, Madara forcefully expelled chakra out of his body and heard, more than saw a dozen bodies hit the ground. Too quick for any of them to follow, Madara dashed out of the compound, taking to the trees and not stopping until he’d reached the border of the Fire Country. The chase – even as easy as it was, with him much faster than his pursuers – filled his body with adrenaline and not before long he began grinning in delight. He led them on a wild goose chase before he decided to stop playing around and quickened his pace, only stopping when he realized that he’d lost them.

 

With a sigh, he ducked into a cave and sat down, pulling out the scroll containing the stolen relic. Unsealing the tablet, Madara propped it up against the cave wall as he continued studying it in greater detail, coming to the conclusion that he had been right – the entire feud between the Uchiha and the Senju, his deep hatred of Tobirama, and his inexplicable best enemy type relationship with Hashirama – everything was a conspiracy.

 

From what Madara could understand, the tablet had been written by the Sage of Six Paths himself, and contained his history, the story of Kaguya and the God Tree, although at times, a strange, almost identical if not for the very slight slant, handwriting added sentences here and there, as if almost to push the reader into a certain direction.

 

A direction Madara himself had begun going through, he realized with building horror. He’d read the tablet, saw the information on the Infinite Tsukuyomi – which the Sage seemed to warn against – and then single-mindedly began chasing that dream, to the point where Hashirama had killed him. He’d been _manipulated_ , Madara realized, seething quietly, by some sort of entity which wanted the Infinite Tsukuyomi to be unleashed, and he was certain it had something to do with Kaguya.

 

Well. Not on his watch. Grimly, Madara sealed up the tablet and then summoned Kosoku. Without pause, he said, “I need you to take this scroll and hide it away. No one must ever find this again. Don’t even tell _me_ where you’ve hidden it, Kosoku,” Madara instructed, eyes burning. Kosoku cocked his head curiously at his summoner but nodded his head sharply as he grabbed the scroll in his talons and disappeared into thin air without a word. Madara sighed as he fell bonelessly to the ground, like a puppet with its strings cut off.

 

He’d been manipulated into hatching that ridiculous plan about the moon, Madara realized with a pained grimace, and now he was thought dead, an enemy of the very village he founded, and all alone. Groaning, he hit his head on the walls of the cave as he leaned back, and he winced, rubbing the back of his head with one gloved hand absentmindedly.

 

“There’s an element of surprise, at least,” Madara said quietly to himself, “I suppose I could jump into this war that’s broken out. No surprise that Hashirama wasn’t able to stop it, he’s always been useless.”

 

He narrowed his eyes as they focused on the rising sun in the distance. “Besides, someone needs to ensure Kame-san and Mei stay safe.”

 

Nodding to himself, Madara stood up and dusted himself off, making sure his gunbai was still firmly attached to his back as he crept out of the cave. He still didn’t know how to use the Rinnegan, but he supposed the knowledge would come in time, same as it had with the Sharingan. For now, he knew that he could forcefully push others away, and it seemed enough for the time being. Madara took to the trees again and circled back around until, eventually, he reached the other end of Konoha, and scanned the village from his position on Hashirama’s carved head.

 

With his chakra firmly under his control and suppressed as far down as he could, Madara was practically undetectable, and coupled with Izuna’s favorite genjutsu, only a Sharingan user would have been able to spot him. From his elevated position, Madara looked into the Hokage’s office, only to scowl when he noticed Hashirama, asleep, on his desk.

 

“Your leader, everyone,” Madara muttered to himself as he looked around for a rock, and found a nice, flat one which he could lob at the Hokage’s head. Lining up the shot, Madara’s eyes narrowed as he focused on the back of Hashirama’s head.

 

The rock hit the Hokage’s skull sharply and Hashirama whined as he jumped awake, spinning around cautiously as he scanned the area for any threats. Madara had disappeared right away, knowing better than to stick around the one man who knew what his chakra felt like like the back of his hand. At least the moron Hokage was awake now, to do his job.

 

Madara could now do his. Stealthily, he landed on the ground in a back alley and morphed the genjutsu into a Henge as he stepped out of the shadows and began walking leisurely along Konoha’s flourishing markets, eyes peeled for Kame and Mei’s presence.

 

It didn’t take very long to find them.

 

Mei was looking into a shinobi store with awe, one hand holding onto Kame’s tightly as the older woman tried pulling her away.

 

“Kame-baa-chan,” Mei said, looking up at the older woman, “Do you think… do you think I’ll ever be a great shinobi like Ma – like sensei?”

 

Kame’s eyes softened perceptibly as she leaned down and brushed through Mei’s blonde hair with her fingers. “You already are. Perhaps not in skill, but in heart – “ she placed a wrinkly hand over Mei’s heart “ – you did the same as he did. You protected us, even after he… passed away. I am sure, wherever he is now, that he is looking down at you with pride, Mei-chan.”

 

Mei’s face colored as she swallowed back some tears, turning again to look at a kunai enviously. “But I want to be as strong as sensei was, Kame-baa-chan.”

 

“You certainly don’t want to start with that,” Madara said as he approached them, still disguised as a tall, nondescript Senju. “That kunai is for big girls and boys. You need something smaller, with less weight to it, just so you can learn how to wield it properly. I can show you, if you want.”

 

Mei’s eyes widened. “Really? You’d do that, shinobi-san?”

 

Madara feigned the easy laughter he so often saw Hashirama do. “Yeah, why not? It’s a dangerous world out there, kid, and someone needs to protect your grandma.” With those words, Madara levelled a glance at Kame and looked her straight in the eye. “If, of course, your baa-chan allows it.”

 

Uneasily, Kame swallowed but nodded. “I don’t… see why not. As long as I come with, just to make sure she behaves.”

 

“Of course,” Madara grinned. “If you’d like, we could go now and practice for a bit, or a bit later if you’re not free – “

 

“Now!” Mei demanded, looking up at Kame.

 

“Only for an hour,” Kame allowed, nodding at Madara’s disguised form. “What is your name, shinobi-san?”

 

Madara blanched, quickly realizing he hadn’t thought of an alias, and blurted out, “Izuna. Senju Izuna,” he said, tripping over his brother’s name. Kame nodded, and said, “Thank you for the offer, Senju-san.”

 

Madara nodded distractedly as he began leading them to the river he spent most of his childhood at, and grimaced as he realized that Izuna was probably rolling in his grave. _I’m sorry, brother_ , Madara thought to himself _, but it had to be done_. The walk was quiet, and Madara kept his senses stretched to ensure no one would follow them. Once they reached the river – which was filled with memories of him and Hashirama planning what would eventually become Konoha – Madara paused and turned around to face the two following him. He searched their surroundings a second time before he sighed.

 

“Hear me out, first, before you assume I have lied to you.”

 

Kame tensed and Mei just looked confused, until Madara released his Henge and opened his eyes to face his two charges. It was Mei who reacted first.

 

“Madara… sensei?” she asked breathily, and Madara grimaced as he nodded.

 

“That’s me,” he said halfheartedly. Mei’s features brightened and she ran forward, leaping towards him and wrapping her arms around him as she hugged him tightly. “Madara-sensei! You’re alive!”

 

“Mei,” Kame said tightly, “get away from him. He’s lying. Madara-kun is dead.”

 

Madara fixed Kame with his changed eyes. “A pretender would not make the idiotic mistake of getting the eyes wrong, Kame-san,” he said, “or the hair. It was shorter when you last saw me, wasn’t it?”

 

The Uchiha could practically hear Kame’s teeth grinding. “No one but us knew that Madara-kun had cut his hair.”

 

“I did,” Madara replied, placing a hand on Mei’s back as she hugged him even tighter.

 

“Then tell us something only he would know,” Kame challenged as she took a step forward, eyes drifting to Mei in worry.

 

“Something only I’d know…” Madara mused as he looked up the sky. “I was depressed after my brother’s death,” he said.

 

“That would be obvious,” Kame replied. “Anyone would be.”

 

Madara harrumphed and, annoyed, crossed his arms. “No one would expect _me_ of all people to go through that – if anything, people think I just went straight-up mad.”

 

“Something else,” Kame insisted, inching closer.

 

“Fine,” Madara said, sighing. “You used to bring me food every week and you claim your pastries charmed me into liking you.”

 

Kame blinked, once, twice, and suddenly her eyes filled with tears. “No! Madara-kun is dead! You’re an impostor!”

 

“I stole some earrings from the Shogun’s estate,” Madara continued, “and used them to pay for travel here. I used a Susanoo to protect us from the hurricane. I died of hypothermia and chakra exhaustion. You buried me – “ he said finally, voice hitching slightly “ – in the sands of Tea Country.”

 

Kame paused in her advance, and sniffled.

 

“Kame-baa-chan,” Mei spoke suddenly, “I think it’s really him.”

 

Madara smiled down gently at the young girl and patted her head with one hand. Then he looked back to Kame, and said, “It’s me, Kame-san. I survived.”

 

“Madara-kun,” Kame gasped, suddenly walking up to him and taking his hand. “Madara-kun, _how_?”

 

“I died,” Madara explained simply, “but I failed to take into account some… rather deplorable things I’ve done in my past. The consequences of those actions only kicked off after my death, healing my body, and in the process lengthening my hair and, disgustingly, my nails, and activating these,” he said, gesturing to his eyes.

 

Kame’s eyes were still filled with tears, but suddenly, just as Madara spotted a steely glint in them, she slapped him. Madara’s head snapped to the left and his mouth hung open as he looked at her in shock. “What was that for?”

 

“For lying to us,” Kame hiccupped, “for not coming back to us straightaway. Seeing all those Uchiha – they look so much like you, Madara-kun. They must think I’m scared of them, with the way I refuse to look at them.”

 

Madara’s gaze softened imperceptibly, even as he scowled and rubbed his cheek. “Well, I’m sure they’d enjoy your fear,” he grouched, “we’re the sort who like to feel powerful.”

 

“Madara-sensei,” Mei keened, suddenly, as she extricated herself from him. “You were right. Konoha is beautiful.”

 

“What do you think of the face on the mountain?” Madara asked, curious.

 

Mei pulled a face. “I think it’s a bit gaudy.”

 

Madara grinned in response. “I knew there was a reason why I liked you.”

 

“Madara-kun,” Kame said, still holding onto his hand tightly. “What are you going to do now? Are you leaving?”

 

Madara nodded. “I have to. Hashirama thinks I’m dead – again. I have to take advantage of that. You’ll be seeing me soon enough, though – I’ll end this war before it comes too close to you two.”

 

By now, Kame knew it was a lost cause trying to argue with the stubborn man, so instead she sniffed, dried her eyes, and said, “Take care. You might not be able to cheat death a third time. And _come back to us_.”

 

For a brief moment, Madara was blown away by the sheer intensity in Kame’s voice, before he smiled and nodded. “I promise,” he vowed. “Other than Hashirama, there is no shinobi in this world who can kill me. I’ll be safe.”

 

“Wear warm clothing,” Kame urged, “and a scarf. And put some proper winter shoes on, for Kami’s sake – “ she said, looking down at Madara’s standard shinobi sandals. Madara chuckled.

 

“I promise, Kame-san, that I will return to you and Mei,” he replied. “After all, someone’s got to teach this squirt the shinobi arts.”

 

“I’ll be the best shinobi ever,” Mei told him, eyes steely.

 

“You will,” Madara agreed. “Soon enough you’ll be beating me in spars.”

 

Mei grinned, pleased with his words, and tried dodging when Madara leaned over to ruffle her hair again, but she wasn’t quick enough. Madara rested his hand on her head and tightened his fingers around Kame’s palm.

 

Now, he had someone worth protecting. It was time to make sure anyone threatening those he loved would pay the price.

 

- _hashirama-_

A sharp pain at the base of his skull woke him up, and Hashirama swore to himself as he twirled around with a kunai, only to find that no one was there. Suspiciously, and a bit tiredly, Hashirama eyed the stone on the ground and kicked it once. When it didn’t explode or sprout blades, he relaxed slightly as he leant over and picked it up.

 

With a puzzled frown, he sat back down and absentmindedly wiped the corners of his mouth clean of drool as he looked over the rock, turning it around and brushing his thumb over it. Then he froze.

 

This rock would be perfect for throwing across a river. Feeling increasingly apprehensive, he peeked out of the window and onto the mountain behind him, spotting nothing out of the ordinary. Cursing suddenly, he fumbled out of his Hokage robes and climbed to the top of the Hokage Tower, scanning the surrounding area cautiously. Still nothing.

 

Hashirama frowned as he investigated the rock even further, clutching it tight in his hands, before deciding he needed a break.

 

Not bothering to tell Tobirama, who was quite used to Hashirama’s disappearing acts, he took to the trees and quickly arrived at his destination. The river was flowing calmly and Hashirama sat down, taking off his shoes and dipping his toes into the cold water as he leaned back and rested his head on one of his arms. He made sure to suppress his chakra signature, as he wanted to be left alone for a bit, and he closed his eyes.

 

Only to open them fifteen minutes later as he heard footsteps approaching his hiding spot. Slightly annoyed, Hashirama picked up his shoes and moved to the other side of the river, dropping them at the base of a tree as he climbed it and waited for the unwanted visitors to move on.

 

Emerging from the forest were three figures, two of which Hashirama was vaguely familiar with. Squinting, he realized that they were the two civilian females who had joined Konoha a few weeks ago, looking tired and like they’d been through hell. They were apparently from a village from across the sea, and had moved here only after their home had burned down and at the behest of the young girl, who wanted to become a shinobi and take after her parents. Escorting them was someone who looked like a Senju, but Hashirama trusted his senses and his memory enough to be assured that the man was most definitely not a clansman. Dropping low and tightening the hold on his chakra, Hashirama watched as the three finally stopped and the Senju pretender turned around.

 

“Hear me out, first, before you assume I have lied to you,” the pretender spoke calmly, and suddenly he shifted, short brown hair elongating into thick, elegant, dark black spikes. His clothes shimmered and became standard shinobi clothes covered by red armor, and a large, very familiar gunbai covered the man’s back.

 

Hashirama’s breath hitched in his throat as he looked upon the pretender’s face and saw Madara’s features.

 

“Madara… sensei?” the girl breathed out.

 

“That’s me,” Madara replied, sort of lamely, and Hashirama was struck speechless as he realized that Madara’s voice was softer – significantly less harsh and less angry than it had been when Hashirama had last spoken to him. And his chakra – softly extending his senses, Hashirama tried scanning his friend’s chakra only to realize that, like his, it was completely masked and invisible to the senses.

 

“Madara-sensei!” the girl cried again as she tightened her hold on Madara, and suddenly Hashirama was struck by the utter adoration in her voice as she launched herself forward and grasped his old friend’s waist tightly. Madara seemed just as shocked, placing a steadying hand on her back as he rubbed comforting circles.

 

“Mei, get away from him. He’s lying. Madara-kun is dead,” the older woman said, tense, inching her way forward.

 

Madara looked at the older woman – Kame-san, from what Hashirama could remember – and said, “A pretender would not make the idiotic mistake of getting the eyes wrong, Kame-san, or the hair. It was shorter when you last saw me, wasn’t it?”

 

“No one but us knew that Madara-kun had cut his hair.”

 

“I did.”  
  
“Then tell us something only he would know,” the old woman challenged, and Hashirama felt a notch of respect at her bravery in the face of danger.

 

“Something only I’d know,” Madara mused as he thought deeply, and Hashirama leaned forward as if to hear the answer better. “I was depressed after my brother’s death.”

 

Hashirama’s heart stuttered in his chest in something that was either guilt or shame, and his fingers dug into the branch he was perched on. Of course. _Of course_ a man like Madara would react so strongly to his brother’s demise. How hadn’t he seen it, back when he’d found the shorter man asleep on Izuna’s grave?

 

“That would be obvious. Anyone would be,” Kame countered, not convinced. Madara seemed slightly annoyed.

 

With a harrumph, he said, “No one would expect _me_ of all people to go through that – if anything, people think I just went straight-up mad.” Hashirama felt his heart clench again – he’d been guilty of that himself; he’d just assumed Madara had gone mad with power – or, _for_ power.

 

“Something else,” the old woman insisted.

 

“Fine,” Madara said, sighing. “You used to bring me food every week and you claim your pastries charmed me into liking you.”

 

Kame reared back, as if struck, and said, “No! Madara-kun is dead! You’re an impostor!”

 

“I stole some earrings from the Shogun’s estate,” Madara continued, “and used them to pay for travel here. I used a Susanoo to protect us from the hurricane. I died of hypothermia and chakra exhaustion. You buried me – “ he said finally, voice hitching slightly “ – in the sands of Tea Country.”

 

Hashirama felt his jaw slacken as he took in the information, fingers loosening on their hold of the branch.

 

“Kame-baa-chan, I think it’s really him,” the girl said, tightening her hold on the Uchiha.

 

Madara slowly nodded, placing a hand on the girl’s head, and said, “It’s me, Kame-san. I… survived.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only Shot at Honor was my baby when I was going through a very difficult time in my life and it's the closest I've ever come to finalizing a multi-chapter story. 
> 
> Thank you very much for reading. Thank you for sticking by this story. I apologize for not finishing this. If anyone wants to continue it please feel free to do so if you notify me of doing so.


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